If Love Were A Flower
by E.M.K.81
Summary: After the Phantom set Christine free and sent her away with Raoul, he is forced to flee with the help of the Girys. It is not a LND story. This is what I would have written if ALW had asked me for a plot for a sequel.
1. Chapter 1

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 _Summary: After the Phantom set Christine free and sent her away with Raoul, he is forced to flee with the help of the Girys. It is not a LND story, I just take the same characters and setting, but it is definitely something completely of my own. This is what I would have written if ALW had asked me for a plot for a sequel._

 **Hounded**

Meg Giry had always been a nosy girl, especially when she was told not to go somewhere because it was dangerous. The more dangerous something might be, the more likely she would be found exactly there. That was why she had gone with the policemen and members of the staff of the Opera to find the Phantom and rescue Christine and Raoul. It was Madame Giry who had shown the way, first to Raoul, then, when he didn't return, to the police as well. Of course Antoinette Giry had told her daughter Meg to stay away, but in the dark with so many people around she couldn't see that Meg was just coming along.

They found no one. Not Raoul, not Christine and certainly not the Phantom. The policemen had a hard time preventing the mob from wrecking havoc in the lair where the Phantom had lived for years. Whatever they found there, it was evidence and secured for further use in the court trial. It was France at the end of the 19th century and not some uncivilized banana republic so the police would have to seize the man and hand him over to the court so he would stand trial for his crimes - they wouldn't allow the mob to lynch him, no matter what he had done.

But there was no Phantom. The policemen herded everyone out of the building and told them to come to the police station to testify the next day. No one was to enter the building for they had to search for the dangerous man and they had to keep civilians out of danger, if possible. They were still ready to shoot for they knew just how dangerous this Phantom was.

The search not successful. Not the first night, not the next day. He had vanished as if he had never existed. Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae showed up, both shaken and pale, both a little bruised, but nothing serious. After being examined by a doctor they were send home.

The policemen doubled their efforts to find the Phantom. They called in every man because they knew the first days were critical - if the Phantom escaped from Paris, it might be even harder to find him. They searched the catacombs and the sewers with hounds and of course searched the flats of everyone who was suspected to be an accomplice, like Madame Giry and Christine Daae, but no Phantom was to be found.

One might have thought that a man with such a severe deformity would not be able to go unnoticed, but he did exactly that, he vanished without a trace. The police was sure he would show up sometimes, he needed food, he needed water and he would have to rest sometimes - either he would show up or someone would bring him supplies and then they would catch him. It was all in vain, the deformed man was nowhere to be seen and after two weeks they lessened their efforts for it was suspected that he might already be dead. Of course he was still the most wanted criminal and drawings of his deformed face - which were not really accurate for the witness statements differed, the only thing they all agreed was that he was horribly disfigured - were sent to every police station and every border post and even to the custom offices just in case he would be caught trying to leave France.

* * *

One night Madame Giry told her daughter to be silent, whatever would happen next, she had to be utterly silent and prepared for a shock. Then she left the flat. Meg wondered why her mother had warned her like this, after all Meg had been through, after all she had seen, she thought herself hardened and nothing would make her scream in terror again.

Hours later Madame Giry returned to their flat but not alone. At her side was a figure, hunched, covered in an old, ragged blanket. The stench that emanated from that figure was overpowering, Meg couldn't stop herself from holding her nose. The person was barefooted despite the cold day in spring and his feet were covered in some stinking mud.

"Meg, bring him some water and bread," Madame Giry told her daughter. Meg went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and a piece of bread, wondering why her mother brought a stinking beggar to their home.

The young girl went back to their livingroom with the bread and the glass in her hand, holding it out for the beggar to take, keeping herself as far away from him as possible. The man shifted, obviously lifting his head to see what the girl had in her hands. Suddenly Meg saw his eyes wide and hungry on her hands, then his hands shot out from under the blanket, which fell to the floor as he moved with incredible speed towards the frightened girl. Meg gasped in horror as she recognized the deformed face - the Phantom! He greedily grabbed the bread and the glass of water with his hands which were almost as dirty as his feet, he emptied the glass and let it fall to the floor where it shattered as he took the bread with both hands bolting down the bread without caring for the dirt on his hands.

"Hush, Meg, it is alright, calm down, everything alright," Antoinette took her daughter who was paralyzed with panic in her arms and tried to comfort her.

"Alright? Nothing is alright! What..." Meg cried out hysterically but her mother covered her mouth with her hand.

"Everything is alright!" Antoinette stated in a voice that left no doubt that Meg had to shut up now. When Meg nodded, her eyes still wide with terror, her mother let go of the shaking girl and turned to the gruesome figure who was now sitting on the floor.

"More," he whispered, his voice nothing like the wonderful singer he was but a raspy whisper.

"No," Antoinette decided, "If you eat and drink too fast you'll only make yourself sick. We do not want that, do we?" She talked to him as if he were a frightened little boy and he obediently shook his head. Meg noticed that he was trembling with cold, no wonder, soaked as he was with that stinking water and mud. "Meg, go and prepare a hot bath for him!" she ordered. Meg obeyed, glad that she didn't have to be in the same room with the monster any longer.

Preparing a bath in the night meant she had to heat the boiler with a coal fire, then let the hot water and some cold water into the bathtub. It took some time until the bath was ready.

When Meg went back to the livingroom to announce that the bath was ready she saw her mother kneeling at the floor, holding the trembling man who sat next to her with her left arm around his shoulders, with her right hand she held a small bucket for him. He was retching terribly. "You should have listened to me," Antoinette said gently, "Try to breathe to calm yourself. Yes, that's good."

"The bath..." Meg squeaked.

"Thank you. Erik? You are cold as ice, we need to get you warmed up. Can you stand up?"

Erik? Who was Erik? Meg saw the man struggling to get to his feet, her mother supporting him, ignoring that the mud soiled her dress now. She helped him to go to the bathroom and asked worriedly: "Can I leave you alone now? Can you do that alone?"

He nodded. Erik didn't even know how he felt then, every cell in his body ached and he didn't know if there was any part of his body that did not hurt. But he would not have a woman helping him to undress, he was still able to do that alone. Antoinette left the bathroom and closed the door.

* * *

Erik took off his ruined clothing with much difficulty. His hands were so cold, he couldn't control his fingers properly, but the clothing was already ruined anyways so he simply tore it apart when necessary. He had hoped to sink slowly in the hot water in the bathtub but he slipped and landed on his back with a splash. Without noticing just how much water had spilled he hissed in pain, the water was hot, not too hot but his body was so cold the really pleasant warmth of the water felt like searing fire. If he could he would have gotten out of the bathtub again, but his muscles already relaxed in the much needed warmth and his eyes fells shut.

"Why do we help him?" Meg asked, her voice still high-pitched in her panic.

Antoinette sighed. "Meg, please, calm down. We have to, because... because... no one else does."

"That is no reason. We ought to call the police!" Meg argued, "He murdered Buquet, he murdered Piangi, he terrorized us all - why do we help him, mother?"

Antoinette started to clean up the livingroom. She wanted the stinking mud out of her flat as soon as possible. "Meg, child, you don't understand..."

"Then tell me, mother, so I can understand!" Meg demanded.

"I guess I can't hide it from you any longer. Meg, Erik is... you know he's a genius. He's such a great man."

"He's the most wanted criminal!" Meg snapped.

"He saved my life!" Antoinette replied angrily, "And now I have to repay him."

"He saved you? How? You never told me anything!" Meg complained.

Antoinette sighed. "You know that the old opera house burned down in an inferno that lasted 27 hours. I was there, I was a ballerina. I fell and broke my knee, that ended my career permanently, but if he hadn't carried me out of the burning theater I would have died that night. Do you understand now why I can't abandon him?"

Meg nodded. Her mother was repaying a debt. But she still did not like it and she was horribly scared of the Phantom.

* * *

When Erik failed to show up after two hours Antoinette decided to knock at the bathroom and call him. When he still didn't react in any way she tried the door which was not locked to her surprise. Erik was still in the bathtub, the water had long since grown cold and was of a brownish colour like tea with milk, but the smell was awful despite the bath salts she had put in it.

"Erik? Erik, wake up! You can't die here!" Antoinette exclaimed horrified at the thought he had died in her bathtub. As she reached out to shake him, his eyes snapped open and he bolted, but slipped again and fell back into the water. His hands came up to cover his face in shock as he saw Antoinette's face hovering over him and remembered he was lying in a bathtub after a moment of disorientation. Only then did he remember that other parts of his body needed to be covered even more than his face, but when he lowered his hands he found Antoinette had already left the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

"Er... I left towels on the stool and a nightshirt," she called out to him, her voice shaking.

Erik climbed out of the bathtub and used the towels to dry himself. He was trembling with cold and could not decide if this was a nightmare or reality. His limbs felt so very heavy, his vision was blurred and he could barely move at all. He needed to lie down or he would soon fall and hurt himself. Erik was not happy to find that the nightshirt was obviously one of Antoinette Giry's own nightshirts, it was made for a woman. It would be too large on her, but to him it was a too short and a bit too tight at the shoulders, but he had no choice - the only other clothing available were the torn rags he had when he arrived there. The very same clothing he had worn when he had been forced to crawl through the sewers, trying to hide from the police and their dogs. The mere thought of having to put that on forced him to gag but he somehow managed not to throw up what little he had in his stomach. Instinctively he knew that he needed every precious drop of water and bite of food he had.

* * *

"Why can't he go away? Mama, we have done enough. I don't want him here, I'm scared!" Meg complained.

Before Antoinette could answer the door opened and the dreaded monster, the Phantom who had terrorized the Opera for years, joined them in the livingroom. Meg stared at him. The dreaded Phantom was dressed in one of her mother's pink nightshirts. Meg was splitting her sides laughing. The dreaded Phantom of the Opera was wearing a pink old-fashioned women's nightshirt. She couldn't stop laughing, not even as her mother told her to stop and pinched her.

"I apologize for my daughter's behavior..." Antoinette said helplessly, afraid what Erik would do now.

He did nothing, he just sat down on the floor before the chimney and curled into a ball, shivering with cold, his teeth chattering. Before Madame Giry could fetch a blanket, he fell asleep and toppled sideways to the floor. Antoinette covered him with the blanket and carefully put a pillow under his head. Erik did not wake up. Then she grabbed her hysterically laughing daughter by the arm and dragged her out of the room.

It would be a long night, Antoinette mused, for cleaning up the bathroom alone would take hours - and she couldn't count on Meg helping her, the girl was still laughing so hard, she could no longer stand upright.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	2. On the Run From the Police

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **on the run from the police**

The next day Antoinette Giry got up early, she wanted to be around when Erik would wake up, just in case he would get angry. She wouldn't have needed to - Erik didn't wake up when she walked past him and build a fire in the chimney, he didn't wake when she prepared breakfast in the kitchen and he didn't even wake up when Meg went to look if he was awake. Finally Antoinette decided to wake him carefully. She knew that he might strike before he was fully awake so she didn't go near but poked him with her walking cane.

Erik grabbed the cane and ripped it from her hands, before she knew what was happening she was on her back on the floor, Erik standing over her, her cane in his hands, ready to strike. Only then did he blink and looked around in confusion, trying to find out where he was.

"Um... may I get up?" Madame Giry asked.

"I'm so sorry," Erik held out his hand to help her up, blushing with shame.

Meg couldn't help laughing again. Now, by daylight, he looked even more ridiculous in her mother's pink nightshirt. Erik looked down and blushed even more, turning his back to the two women. He bend down to take the blanket and cover himself with it as much as possible. There was nothing else he could do now.

"Breakfast is ready," Antoinette told them.

Meg wasn't happy to learn that she had to sit at the table with Erik in the kitchen as her mother placed three plates with bread and honey on the table. Erik sat down, the blanket like a cape around his shoulders. He was too hungry not to eat and didn't even think to wait until the two ladies would begin.

"You need clothes," Antoinette began, "But we do not have anything that might fit and of course no men's clothing."

"You can't just go any buy something. If the police learns that you buy men's clothing they would become suspicious," Erik warned her.

Meg shrugged. "They already searched our flat with hounds the very first day, and then a week later again."

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "They suspect you to be my accomplice," he sighed, "I have to leave tonight."

"And go where? Yesterday you were close to death, if you go back to the catacombs and the sewers it won't be long before you either die or give yourself up as soon as the police promises you a glass of water and a piece of bread!" Antoinette warned him.

He nodded sadly. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want to live, but I'm too cowardly to end it myself and the thought of being imprisoned and executed in public is unbearable. I just... I don't know..." He tried to bite back tears, he wouldn't cry in front of two women.

"You need rest," Antoinette decided, "Meg and I go shopping."

"I told you..." Erik tried to stop her, but she interrupted him.

"Do you think I'm a fool? We go to a second hand shop and buy clothes and shoes for ourselves, as if we were planning a trip to the mountains. I'm sure I can smuggle some men's clothing out of the shop then."

"I don't like this," Erik replied, but since he had no better idea he decided to change the topic: "I need some rugs and old towels you don't want to use any more. If I am to stay here all day long I need to prepare the hidey-hole."

"We have a hidingplace in our flat?" Meg asked surprised, but was silenced by the glare of her mother and the deformed man. To Meg's surprise the deformed visage was not so frightening when it sat on a body dressed in a pink nightshirt, but she knew better than to point that out to Erik.

"Meg, you stay here and entertain our guest," Antoinette decided, "I go to buy clothing."

"But..." Meg and Erik objected at the same time, but finally decided against further protests, Meg because she didn't dare risking a quarrel with her mother and Erik because he knew he couldn't do anything now. He didn't even have clothing and it was broad daylight, what could he do except staying here and hoping for the best?

* * *

Meg felt absolutely odd as the two sat in the livingroom. She didn't know why her mother risked her to stay with the Phantom rather than taking her with her - she was just going shopping! Why couldn't the girl accompany her? She looked at the man who was sitting crouched at the couch, covered in blankets. He had finally found some piece of clothing to cover his face, he looked rather like a woman wearing a veil now, but this was preferable to being exposed to Meg's eyes.

"Sir?" Meg began cautiously when she couldn't endure the silence any longer, "May I ask something?"

"You may ask - and I may not answer," he replied. He was in no mood for conversation, but what could he do? Locking himself in the bathroom just to avoid being in the same room as the blonde girl?

"How long can one survive without water?"

Erik shrugged. "Two days, maybe three. Why do you ask?" He was not at all interested in smalltalk, but he couldn't very well lock himself in the bathroom to escape the blonde girl.

"You were in the sewers two weeks," Meg asked curiously, "Even the police thinks you might be dead. How did you survive?"

"With difficulty." Why did this girl have to chatter? He wanted to be left in peace, his situation was bad enough without a nosy ballet rat. Had she not been Antoinette's daughter he would have scared her away by now, but he couldn't do that, he needed her mother's help - at least until he had some clothes and could leave.

"But... what did you drink?"

"The least disgusting liquid available."

"And... what was that?" Meg couldn't imagine how one could find any drinkable liquid in the sewers.

"My own urine," Erik answered and grinned as Meg shuddered in disgust and covered her lips with both hands, her eyes wide in horror. "You have never been that thirsty, have you?" he asked smirking.

"No," Meg struggled not to retch.

"You have never been really hungry as well, have you?" Erik asked, finally he had an idea how to get rid of her. Meg shook her head slightly. Right now the thought of food was nearly too much for her. Erik grinned. "Otherwise you would have known that rats are edible."

Meg rushed to the toilet and Erik settled down on the couch rather satisfied. If this had not been enough he would have told her that when a man was really starving he would eat human flesh if nothing else was available. Erik had no idea if this was true, he himself would never do that, he hoped. He didn't really know where his limits were in a fight for survival, he only knew that he valued his life higher than anyone else's - except Christine, that is.

* * *

Antoinette Giry came home in a rush. She carried a basket with clothing. "Erik, where is Meg?" she asked.

"In the bathroom, I think," Erik answered and couldn't help smiling, wondering about himself. Was he really such a bad guy that he could only laugh at someone's misfortune?

Antoinette showed the basket in his hands and snapped: "Get dressed! Hurry up!"

"Where?" He couldn't very well dress in a room where Meg could come in any moment now.

"My room," she ordered and went to the bathroom to see to her daughter.

Erik was not happy with the clothing she had bought. The trousers were too wide and too short, the shirt was much too large, she had forgotten that men usually wore underwear, the jacket must have been made for Goliath himself, the socks were too large and of crude itchy material and the shoes were so worn out he doubted he would be able to walk with them more than a few steps before they would fell apart - and they were a bit too small, he would have to cut them open at the front if he wanted to walk with them. But there was nothing he could do now except taking what he had and getting dressed.

When he left the room, Antoinette shoved a bundle of rags in his hands and whispered: "Hide, now!" Erik knew what that meant. The police was on their way and he was trapped in their flat. He went to the bathroom and opened the hidden trapdoor just to press himself in the tiny space under the build-in bathtub. Meg stared at him flabberghasted, she hadn't known they had a hiding place in their bathroom and that under a fully functional bathtub. He shut the door from inside.

"Meg, lock yourself in the bathroom and pretend to be washing! Turn on the water and so on! And when you come out: nothing happened, no one is here except the two of us," Antoinette instructed, then grabbed one of the perfume bottles and let it fall in the bathtub. "If someone asked, you were so startled when the police called you, you broke the bottle!"

Soon after that six policemen arrived. They politely asked if they could come in and have a look, someone had informed them that a disgusting beggar had been seen lurking around the house the night before and now they were just making sure it was not the Phantom.

"O please do come in!" Madame Giry said and gave a perfect image of a frightened woman, "You know that I am horribly afraid of him. He threatened to kill me should I ever tell anyone what I knew - and I led you to his lair! He surely wants to kill me now!"

The policemen searched the flat very carefully. Meg played her role, letting out a terrified scream as a policeman knocked on the door of the bathroom and told her to come out. She was terribly pale and shaking - this was not faked, she was scared to death. If Erik would be found now, she and her mother would stand at his side in court facing public trial.

The police searched the Giry's flat thoroughly, taking both women to the police office for an interrogation. Meg was constantly crying, declaring how scared she was of the Phantom and that she knew nothing more than Christine had told her. Madame Giry couldn't deny her role as the Phantom's messenger, but she did adhere to her previous statement that she had never been an accomplice, he had blackmailed her into delivering his letters, threatening to murder the ballet girls one by one should she refuse or betray him - she declared having been in constant fear for her own life and that of her daughter.

It was late that evening that both women returned home, not knowing what they might find when they arrived. To their great relief the policemen informed them that they had found nothing, but they would leave two guards for they were not sure if the beggar who had been seen the night before was not the Phantom trying to take revenge for Madame Giry had shown them the secret path to his lair. Madame Giry thanked them and assured them how glad she was that she and her daughter were safe now with two guards in the street. Meg only cried, she didn't have the nerve to say anything.

Madame Giry locked the door carefully, only then did she relax slightly. "Thank God, they didn't find him!" she sighed, "We have to get him out of there. He's been hiding beneath the bathtub for more than six hours now."

She knocked at the bathtub. "You may come out."

Erik pushed open the secret door and crawled out of the tiny space with a groan. He had been lying on his stomach all day long without any chance to move his arms or legs or even turn his head from the left to the right side, all the time hearing the police, trying to be as silent as possible. "No hounds. The hounds would have smelled me despite the perfume," he groaned and stretched, "Thanks for the rugs. This would have gotten rather unpleasant. If you excuse me now, I have to clean myself up!"

"Of course, excuse me," Antoinette dragged her daughter out of the bathroom.

* * *

That evening they sat in the kitchen. Erik rested his head in his hands and stared at the wall. Meg picked at her food. Antoinette stared at her plate, her hands folded in her lap. Neither could eat anything.

Erik was the first who spoke: "I can't stay here. It is too dangerous."

"You can't leave. There are two guards in the street," Meg informed him.

Erik raised his eyebrows slightly amused. "You have no idea how quickly and silently they die."

Antoinette snapped irritated: "That is exactly the attitude that caused this whole mess!"

"Really? Who was the one to lead the police to my secret hiding place?" Erik retorted angrily, but kept his voice down. He could not afford to be heard by any neighbors now, "Who betrayed me?"

"I never betrayed you!"

Erik pushed his chair back, jumped to his feet and leaned over the table, his deformed face dangerously close to hers. "How did they find me then? First the Vicomte, then the police?"

"I only followed your orders."

" **My orders**? I must really be a madman for I can't remember telling you to send me to my doom!"

"You gave me a lot of rules to follow, but you said yourself there was one rule that was above every other: get Christine Daae out of harm's way and if it cost all our lives," Antoinette replied calmly. Meg had to admire her mother's fearlessness in the face of the Phantom's fury. Antoinette added calmly: "In that moment you were the worst danger to her."

Erik let out a groan, sank onto his chair and buried his head in his arms, silently weeping. He could no longer control himself.

* * *

That night Erik left the Giry's flat through a window to the backyard, climbing up a fireladder to the roof and climbing over the roofs to the other side of the block where he used a rain water downpipe to reach the street and vanished in the darkness. He would have to hide away again, it was too dangerous to stay in the Giry's flat, but they had promised to bring him food and water and a blanket the next night.

A horrible routine set in the weeks that followed. Erik lived in the catacombs, constantly on the move, only seldom daring to sleep, trying to stay out of everyone's way, which was not easy for he was not the only one who found shelter in the sewers and catacombs. Criminals, whores, beggars, drug-addicted people - they all knew some hiding places in the sewers, even street-children were there, at least somewhere close to the entrances. Erik was one of the few who dared going deep down without light for he knew his way there and would find his way back again.

Every three days he came to one of the prepared places where he had build in hidden boxes in the walls. Madame Giry and her daughter dutifully had stashed them with hardtack and bottles of water, but he had to be frugal for he didn't know when they would find an opportunity to bring new supplies. Sometimes he wondered if Madame Giry had been right and he would eventually give himself up just because in prison he would have a place to sleep - it wouldn't be colder or filthier than the sewers where he was living now - and at least some sort of food and water. But right now he was not that desperate. He carried a large knife with him - he had taken it from Giry's kitchen - not so much to defend himself for he knew that the police always came in large numbers and he wouldn't do much with just one knife but to cut his own throat should he find himself cornered. It was comforting to know that he could always end his misery, should he chose to do so.

It was a very hard life, living in constant fear, hunger and thirst without any chance to keep up a minimum hygiene. Even when he dared to go to some place where he would find some underground rivulet he didn't dare taking off his clothes, much less washing them, for he never knew if someone might see him, might try to arrest him. He missed the luxury of clean clothing or a bath - or even to wash himself with cold water. The luxury of having a toilet and not needing to go to the sewers to relief himself, always risking someone might see him.

* * *

One night Erik dared to use the secret entrance to a crypt beneath a church. He had long ago broken one of the coffins and disposed of the corpse, the coffin was now one of the secret places where the Giry's could leave supplies for him. It was one of the easier places for them for it would not arouse any suspicions if they went to church regularly. Even if they entered the crypt no one would think much of it - in exactly that crypt was the grave of the late Monsieur Giry. Of course Erik had not been so tactless to use his coffin.

When he came to the crypt, he saw a light. Someone was there - at this time? It must be late in the evening, so who would be there? Carefully he peeped through the hidden peephole and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was just Meg Giry. She stood at her father's coffin, had carefully arranged flowers and candles around it. Her basket was large, obviously she had brought food and water for Erik and he decided to approach her.

"Meg," he said softly.

She jumped. "Erik!" she gasped, breathing hard, "You always startle me!"

"I'm sorry. Do you have something for me?" he asked, the loud rumble from his stomach giving away his hunger.

"Of course," she pointed to her basket and the next moment he was on his knees beside the basket on the floor, reaching for the water. His throat was parched, he needed to drink and then eat something. He only hoped she had already taken out all flowers or he might eat them too for he didn't care much what he would swallow now.

Meg was telling him something, but right now his needs were stronger than his pride or any attempt at behaving like a human being. Thirst, hunger and exhaustion had reduced him to the animalistic instinct to survive somehow. "Erik?" Meg tried again, and this time he managed to focus on her, "There is someone who wants to see you."

His head shot up and he stared at the figure standing there, some meters away. She must have hidden around a corner before, or maybe she had been there all the time and he had just been too weary to see her. Erik was still on his knees, the bottle with water in one hand, the half-eaten piece of bread in the other. He couldn't speak now for he had just taken a greedy bite, now he nearly choked on the bread as he realized who stood there.

Christine.

He managed to swallow somehow and staggered to his feet, blushing with shame at the knowledge that she had seen him like this. "Christine... you came?" he whispered.

"I had to know if you were still alive," she answered, tears running from her eyes. Erik took in her appearance. Christine was dressed in a plain dark grey dress and a dark grey shawl, as if she had come here to mourn.

He resisted his first impulse to rush to her, take her in his arms, for he was painfully aware of the stench that emanated from his unwashed body and clothing. Being filthy had been bad enough, but standing before her in such a dire state was somehow even more humiliating. "Please don't come too close," he warned her, "I know how disgusting I am."

She didn't heed his warning and came close enough to extend her hand towards him. "I don't care," she replied, "I just had to know you were alive."

"Christine... you should not be here. Go back to your Vicomte. Where I am now I can't take you with me and I'm not safe," he tried to sound calm and composed but it came out as choked whisper.

"Erik... your name is Erik, isn't it? Meg told me that this is your name. You never... never even told me your name," Christine replied.

"I do not have a name, but Antoinette... Madame Giry... gave me one because she didn't like to address me as 'Opera Ghost'," Erik answered sadly. He reached for the ring. The ring he had bought, hoping to give it to Christine as engagement ring, the ring she had given him back before fleeing with the Vicomte. He had tied the ring to his neck with a cord that was so knotted it would have to be cut to free the ring. It was the only way he could keep that ring now. It was the only valuable thing he had and he would rather die than give it away.

Christine's eyes showed him so much pity. Out of pity she had kissed him, out of pity she would have stayed with him, but he didn't see any love there.

"You have to go, every moment we are here the risk becomes higher," he warned the two girls.

"Erik, I came back... because... because..." Christine didn't find any reason she could voice now.

"Go. Leave me. It is for your own good, please, don't make this harder on me. Just go and forget me."

"Erik, I... I love you," she whispered.

He shook his head sadly. "No you don't," he replied, "You are just confused. It has been too much and I deeply regret what I did to you. You can't love me - look at me. I'm nothing but a monster, a filthy, disgusting monster running from the law. There is no way we could ever be together now. Please, my dear Christine, go. Do not humiliate me further, I do not want you to witness me degenerating to a covering animal."

"Erik..."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what had to be done. "Christine, I've reached the end of the line. My life is over, I can only try to put off the evil hour, but I won't last much longer. You have a life worth living - go. Just go and... maybe one day you can think of me fondly." He smiled as he quoted the first grand aria she had sung on stage.

Christine kissed him. It was the second kiss in his life. He did resist the urge to hold her to his breast and never let go of her, he pushed her away gently. "Christine, go. I love you, I love you so much, but please - go now. Good bye. Good bye. I love you." He retreated to his secret trapdoor that connected the crypt with the catacombs and vanished, he was blind with tears.

Meg took the trembling Christine in her arms and held her. Had anyone seen the two girls embracing each other, shaking in violent sobs, he would have thought they had just lost a beloved relative.

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 _A rather long chapter for this weekend. Thank you very much for the many reviews! Thank you! I'm really happy!_

 _Well... "Moonless Night" in LND seemed rather unrealistic to me. This is a more realistic version, I guess. They see each other, but it is in no way romantic - Erik is a fugitive, he does not have the luxury of a bath or clean clothing and he's been hiding in the catacombs and sewers for weeks. I guess in a realistic situation for a meeting not one of them would be even thinking of any intimacy. Sorry, Mr. Andrew Lloyd Webber, but a fugitive on the run is nothing anyone would want to be close to._

 _Next chapter will be up next week._


	3. Escape

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Escape**

Meg Giry went to the bank to take out money from her mother's bank account. She had done so before, she had a written authorization to do that. Only this day the bank employee refused and informed her that all her and her mother's accounts had been blocked by order of the magistrate and the account books had been confiscated. Meg hurried home to tell her mother, she was scared the police had finally found out they were aiding the Phantom.

Antoinette nearly fainted when her daughter informed her. She told her daughter to dress in plain clothing like peasant women would do and put on boots, now that the police had the account books they had to run for it because it was just a question of time until they found the evidence they needed to arrest them.

"Mother, what have you done?" Meg asked frightened.

"No time for explanations! Come!"

"But... how do we inform Erik that he's on his own from now on?" Meg asked.

"He'll notice as soon as he runs out of supplies," Antoinette replied, "Come on, we have to leave the city before we are at large!"

"How are we going to meet him again?" Meg asked as they locked the door and left as if they were just going shopping, each of them carrying a basket with what little they could take with them: a blanket for each one of them and the money and jewelry they had. Since it was a rather cold day no one wondered that they wore warm cloaks and woolen scarfs, they were sure they would need them soon.

"There is a little hunter's lodge a few kilometers outside of Paris," Antoinette explained reluctantly, "Meg, you must never underestimate Erik. He always thought that there might be a day when he would have to flee - that's why he told me of many hidden points where we could secretly met, like the crypt. His lair was initially only a backup plan. When other people think of plan A and B, Erik is already busy preparing plan L or M, you understand?"

* * *

Two women in typical working class clothing didn't draw much attention and they passed the streets without any troubles. Leaving the city was no problem at all, they just went along with other people who were on their way home from their shift in one of the factories.

Erik did not know what had happened, he only noticed that the Giry's failed to leave supplies for him. This was not good, either they had been forced to run themselves or they had been arrested. There was only one way to find that out: If they were just on the run they would leave a message for him in the wood, he knew exactly where. If there was no message, they had been arrested and he could do nothing for them. He could only try to save himself now. Erik hated to have to run now without being able to come up with a plan where to go and how. He would have to improvise now.

Feeling slightly guilty he followed a storm water sewer pipe, crawling on hands and knees and cursing the rubbish and dirt and water that was so high in that pipe it reached to his shoulders, but the pipe was too small, he could only crawl and silently pray that it was not raining just now or the water would fill the last twenty centimeters of the pipe and drown him. He felt panic rise in his chest and tried to crawl as fast as he could manage. The fear of drowning in that pipe was overpowering, but there was no going back now. He could only pray that he would reach the riverbank of the Seine before the water level was so high he would no longer be able to breathe.

"Please, God, don't let me drown... please don't let me drown... please..." he repeated in his mind as he thought he noticed the water rising - or was it just panic and exhaustion that caused him to think it was? "Don't drown me as I had drowned them!" he screamed in the narrowness of the waterpipe, no one would hear him anyways. He shuddered at the thought of the men he had drowned in the lake to keep his lair secret, to keep himself safe from the law with its chains and bars. "Please let me live," he whimpered, doubling his efforts to escape the pipe. He no longer cared if there were guards at the exit. If there were policemen he would not have the strength to stay hidden and wait for them to leave, he would allow them to take him away, he just needed to breathe.

It was pitch black and only slightly raining when Erik reached the end of the pipe. The water was already dangerously high and he was not able to hold on to the pipe or the stonework there, he fell into the river, his drenched clothing dragging him down. He managed to kick off his shoes and open his trousers so he could kick them off as well, then tried desperately to come to the surface, broke it, managed to get a couple of deep breaths before the next swirl dragged him down again.

Time was lost on Erik as he made it up again, struggling to keep his head over the water. He had always fancied himself a very good swimmer, but the river Seine was too much for him. Luckily he had fallen in at one side and the stream dragged him towards the riverbank, but he was still within the city and his hands only touched wet, slippery stones, he couldn't find something to hold on. If he had any breath left he would have cried for help now, being arrested seemed not so bad now that he was close to drowning.

Suddenly he found hold on one of the boats that were tied there close to some bridge. Erik couldn't see where he was, it was far too dark. It was a rather small boat, but he had grabbed a line and was able to pull himself up and into the boat. At first he could only lie there, struggling to catch his breath, from time to time coughing and spitting water. He shivered with cold and tried to think of what he could do next. He reached up and found that his ring was still there - so that was all he had now. A shirt and a ring. He had lost the knife that had been tied to his trousers.

Sitting up he decided to steal the boat. He would just lie down and let it drift down the river. Whoever owned this little wooden boat was utterly careless for he had left one oar in the boat and a rather large piece of canvas that had been used to cover the boat. He crawled under the canvas and just stayed there as the small boat was floating down the river as if the empty boat had loosened itself.

* * *

In the first light of day Erik managed to bring the boat to the riverside and climb out of it. He was shivering with cold, the only clothing he had - the shirt and the canvas - drenched. He needed some time to find out where he was and decided it would be best to hide and wait for the night. He had two or three hours forced march before him if he wanted to head for the hunters cabin where he hoped to find at least one of the Girys. He dreaded being all alone now, he was not sure he would be able to survive alone.

Marching barefooted through undergrowth was painful, but he had no choice. He had to go there, then he would at least know for sure if the Girys were still with him or had been captured or had just abandoned him. Since the hunting cabin belonged to a rich nobleman - ironically the de Chagny family - he hoped to find something he could use there. Maybe some blankets and a knife or even food.

When he reached the small hunters cabin he saw that there was a fire lit in the tiny stove, he could clearly see the light from the fire through the windows. Was this some hunter? If it was an unfortunate huntsman he would have to kill him to steal the clothing and the weapons. He almost hoped it might be someone he could kill and rob, his survival instincts were much stronger than any conscience he ever had and he had only too soon forgotten his prayers when he was close to drowning.

As he dared to look through the small window he recognized Antoinette and her daughter immediately. With a sigh of relief he opened the door and came in. They had not been captured and had not abandoned him.

"Erik, thank goodness!" Antoinette exclaimed and tried to hug him. Erik stared at her and suddenly noticed the smell of alcohol on her breath. Of course, why else would she try to hug him?

"Have you been drinking?" he asked.

"Only a ti-ti-tiny li-li-little bit," she giggled, "We found a bottle, but no food and thought it might warm us."

"I see," Erik helped her to sit down on one of the two benches in the next to Meg who was staring at his bare feet. "It's rude to stare," he snapped and pulled the canvas closer around his shoulders to cover himself.

"Your feet. One, two, three... no, this can't be... one, two, three, four, five, six. Am I really this drunk?" Meg asked.

With a sigh Erik sat down and placed his feet close to the stove to get warmed up. "No, I do have six toes each foot," he answered, "Now give me that bottle!"

* * *

All three woke the next morning because the birds were singing. Usually they might have appreciated this, but right now the twittering of birds sounded like loud screeching in their ears.

To her absolute horror Antoinette Giry found herself lying in the floor with her daughter at her left side and Erik at her right. Had they really slept on the floor under one and the same blanket? At least they were dressed. Except Erik, he seemed to have lost his trousers somehow and had wrapped a dirty woolen blanket around his hips like a wraparound skirt. It was one of the blankets they had found in this small hunters cabin.

"Get up!" she snapped. Meg groaned and buried her face in her arms. Erik bolted and was on his feet in no time, his eyes moving rapidly as he looked carefully for any danger.

"It is broad daylight," Erik observed, "Do you think we can risk moving on?"

"No," Meg replied, she was still lying on the floor.

"Meg, this is no time for sleeping! We can't stay here, we need something to eat and a plan where to go," her mother rebuked but not as sternly as she had intended to.

"No. I don't need food."

Erik sighed and started searching the cabin for some items they might use. Two folding knifes, one of them small, one large. The smaller one was rusty. Three bottles of some fine hard liquor, one empty. Two dirty woolen blankets, one already wrapped around his hips like a skirt, the second one partly torn. He decided that he would have to use the second blanket like a hooded cape to conceal his face should they be seen by anyone. He used the knife to cut the canvas so he could use it like bandages on his bare feet, making it easier to walk. He didn't have shoes now.

Not much later three ragged beggars were seen on the street, supporting each other. No one did look twice, everyone kept away from them. They were just stinking beggars, most likely to be infested with all sorts of parasites that came with filthiness.

* * *

They did not really know where they were going, but all three of them had the strong urge to move on, knowing that all three of them were wanted by the police now. It was easier for the two women for they were sure that no one who had known them on Paris would recognize them now. They had cut off their long and formerly beautiful hair because it was hopelessly matted and dirty, they were dressed in dirty rags and certainly looked every bit like clochards. Erik tried to conceal his height walking hunched, pretending to be a hunchbacked woman, an effect hightened by the blankets he wore like they were a dress. Antoinette had given him her scarf so he could conceal his face better, even if he had to cover one eye now, reducing his sight.

"Where are we going?" Meg asked. She was under the impression that her mother and Erik were keeping her in the dark when she was the innocent one, she had done nothing wrong, while she strongly suspected her own mother now of having been the right-hand-woman of the Phantom of the Opera all the time.

"Calais," her mother replied, "We need to leave France. We have to go away as far as possible."

"Calais? Where is Calais?"

"Silly girl!" Erik snapped irritated, "Calais is about 300 kilometers north of Paris, you can get to Dover, England, from there easily."

"Three **hundred** kilometers? Do you expect us to walk on foot?"

Erik shrugged. "Clochards can't take the train without raising suspicions - we can't risk that. If we make about 5 kilometers per hour and keep that up for about ten hours a day we should be there in six days. Come on - six days is not that much!"

* * *

Only that it wasn't six days. Erik alone would have made it in that time, no doubt, but Madame Giry suffered from pain in her leg - the injury that had put an untimely end to her career as dancer and left her depending on a walking cane. She had a crude stick now to lean on, but she was not able to walk ten hours a day and certainly not at Erik's rather fast pace. Meg on the other hand, being a well-trained ballerina, would eventually outrun Erik with her strong legs and her stamina. At first Erik decided to carry Antoinette on his back only to find that he couldn't. He could carry her a few kilometers, but then he had to stop and rest, slim as she was, she was too heavy to be carried all the time.

Food and water was another problem - masquerading as beggars they were avoided and ignored by other people, if they were seen at all, for Erik had decided not to use roads where they would likely encounter others but used small trails aside from the roads. They could drink water from rivulets and sometimes had to go to a village to fetch water from the well. To get some food Erik had to take the risk of approaching villages and steal things. He stole not only food but other things they needed too like clothing, a bag and finally a handcart. Antoinette would sit on the cart, Erik could draw it and Meg had to carry the bag with what little they had - three blankets and a little food and a bottle of water to be refilled whenever they found some water.

Erik always carried a large sharp kitchen knife for the purpose of cutting his own throat should he find himself cornered one day. He would not allow himself to be captured. Antoinette rebuked him sometimes for that, telling him he was a coward to even consider suicide and leaving two helpless women to stand trial alone, but Erik just offered to kill them first, should they prefer death.

To their great surprise they actually were driven away by the police sometimes for they didn't allow workshy filthy ragtag in their villages, but not one of them asked for papers - which they would never be able to show - or even looked carefully enough to see that one of the three female beggars was in truth a man and he didn't wear the headscarf tied that way for fun but to hide his deformity.

Erik did not consider himself well-disguised. His height made it close to impossible to pretend to be a woman, but since he was drawing the hand-drawn cart he usually walked bend forward to steady himself, he looked smaller than he was and dressed in rags as he was, especially with the skirt he now wore, could be mistaken for a woman. Of course not to anyone who had paid any attention, but who looks twice at clochards anyways? It is amazing what one can hide right under the police's nose just by **not** hiding it at all.

They arrived in Calais relatively unharmed and really surprised how easily they had evaded any control - in fact, they had been seen by so many people - even policemen - that they had been sure never to make it to Calais, but all that had happened was that they were driven away, sometimes they would receive a beating, no one had ever bothered to ask for papers or even asked them to show their faces. Obviously no one was interested in three female beggars.

They found a hidingplace near Calais, it was just a half-collapsed shack that had obviously been abandoned. Erik announced that it was "free" and the former tenant had suddenly decided to move out - neither Antoinette nor Meg questioned this, but they suspected him of just strangling the unfortunate man who had been forced to live there and dumped his body in the sea - so they could "move in". Erik was trying to sound cheerful, they were all exhausted and hungry and needed some good news badly so he had taken it upon himself to pretend optimism and good mood, making plans for the future - he thought about going to London and form there to Africa. He knew in Africa were mines where men were digging for diamonds. With his knowledge about tunnel systems and statics he was sure he would find a job protecting a mine form thieves and keeping the workers in line. He didn't tell them that this was just a fantasy, right now he had no real plans for the future. He would need to be on firm ground again, before he could start making real plans for the future and he wasn't sure he was ready to admit that there would be a future for him, but he thought the two women needed some optimism now. He only succeeded in driving both women nearly mad with his black humor.

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 _Thank you for reading. Please review!_


	4. Over the Ocean

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Over the Ocean**

"Now, let's see what we have," Erik demanded as they sat huddled together in the tiny shack. One wall was already collapsed, the other three were more or less standing, but at least they had some sort of shelter from the rain. Not much, for the roof was leaking, but the man who had lived there before them had put up a sailcloth over the roof so the water would run down the wall - even on the inside - but left a dry spot in the middle to sit. They had build a fire on the ground close to the open side of the shack, trying to keep at least a bit warm.

Antoinette pulled out a little bag and let its contents fall at the floor. It was some money, two pearl necklaces and a plain golden bracelet.

" **That** is all?" Erik asked resentful, "Where is the rest?"

"I'm sorry," Antoinette replied, "The magistrate confiscated our bank account files and the bank blocked the accounts."

"Bank accounts?" Erik yelled at her, grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently, " **Bank accounts**? Are you mad? You put the money in bank accounts?"

"You're hurting me!" Antoinette protested and Meg took cover in a corner despite the puddle of rainwater there.

Erik took a deep breath and released her, struggling for composure.

Antoinette recovered rather quickly. "And where is your contribution to our means to leave this country?" she asked.

Erik looked aside and shrugged, clearly ashamed. "I have none," he confessed.

" **None**?" Now it looked like Antoinette was ready to kick him where it hurt most, "None at all? Monsieur 20.000 Franc cash a months can't add anything?"

"Ha! 20.000 Franc - that's a good joke!" Erik defended himself furiously, "You know perfectly well how much was in for me and how many people were on my payroll!"

Meg edged closer to where Erik and Antoinette stood, glaring at each other. "I'm sorry, but... what are you two talking about?" she asked.

"Shut up, brat!" Erik spat.

"No, she's right. If she is to share our fate she has a right to know why - we owe her that much," Antoinette replied sadly and Meg wondered how and why her mother had the courage to stand up to the dreaded Phantom.

Erik sighed. "I guess you are right. Meg - you know about magicians, don't you? Secret assistants and so? Well, let's put it this way: To keep up the illusion of an Opera Ghost I had some people on my payroll, like your mother, who was my right hand woman, the chief of security, the firemen, some of the scene-shifters..."

"Scene-shifters? Buquet - was he one of them?" Meg asked.

Erik made an angry gesture. "He became greedy. Threatened to reveal my secrets - at least what little he knew - I needed to crack the whip for I couldn't allow any of my assistants turning against me." More like cracking his neck, Antoinette thought, but kept silent. Erik was upset enough, she wouldn't risk angering him further.

Meg's eyes became wide. "So there were many people in league with you?" she asked, not daring to believe what he had just told her.

"Of course! How else could I keep up the illusion?"

"Erik? What is it you wear on that cord?" Antoinette inquired.

"Nothing!" Erik snapped, "Stay away from me!"

"It is your ring! This ring is worth more than..."

"No! It is all I have now! Over my cold dead body!" Erik was adamant and the two women knew better than to press him. They knew that he was capable of and wouldn't risk their health or their lives.

"So, what are we doing now? Booking a passage to where?" Meg asked.

Erik and Antoinette stared at the blonde girl as if she had just gone mad. Then they both roared in laughter. "That one was good, child, we really needed a good laugh!" her mother chuckled.

Erik noticed that Meg stared at them not understanding anything. "Antoinette, you did something horribly wrong in educating her. She's so terribly naive!"

"I'd say I did something right and she's innocent!" Antoinette replied, then turned to her daughter: "Meg, we can't officially book a passage. We do not have papers and even if we had - we are wanted by the police. They would arrest us as soon as we showed up in the port."

Erik shook his head. "I guess we don't have enough to pay smugglers, not even for a passage to Dover. I do not care where we are going - but we have to get away somehow!" He put his hand under the scarf he used to cover his head and pushed it aside so he could see with both eyes now, not caring that he revealed his deformity. His eye was red and swollen from constantly being covered with the woolen headscarf, he just had to rest it a bit. "I'd say we try to get on some of the run-down freighters at night as stowaway."

"How long do you think we will be trapped in that ship?" Meg asked.

"I have no idea. Depends on where the ship is going, which is not really important as long as it heads away from France," Erik answered, "A French colony is no problem, bureaucracy isn't as strict there as it is here."

* * *

So they began to sneak into the port each night and look at different ships. Erik decided that they needed a rather small, run-down vessel for it would be easier to hide there. His idea was that on a brand-new ship the shipowner would insist on a dutiful, loyal and diligent crew while some run-down vessel they wouldn't want to pay much for the crew and would rather get second-rate sailors who would most likely be alcoholics so it would be much easier to sneak on board and stay hidden despite having to steal food and water.

He was right - there was just one nightguard on board of the ship and he was sleeping off his drunken stupor. The freighter was not fully loaded but it would set off the next day - it was clearly one of those ships which delivered goods from somewhere else to France and had little to take back to the other countries. They could hide in the stowage between wooden containers and barrels. Erik told them that it was absolutely necessary to stay hidden and not move, no matter what - especially not going to the toilet. All of them had tried not to eat - which was easy, they didn't have anything anyways if Erik wasn't able to break into one of the cheap taverns - and drink so they would be able to avoid that as long as possible. "Better soil yourself than going out in the first 24 hours!" Erik instructed, "And if one of us is caught - never admit that the other two are there! Never! If one doesn't make it, he is on his own, the other two might make it to wherever this vessel is going."

The first one to risk giving away their presence on the ship was Erik himself. The moment the steam engine was fired and the two side-paddles of the steamship set in motion the terrible noise, the loud pounding of the steam engine roared through the hull of the vessel, shaking everything within, he screamed. He knew the noise of a steam engine, had endured it before, but inside the hull of the ship it was different altogether. He felt like the pounding of the engine was hitting his heart inwardly, directly stabbing it, squeezing it tight so he could barely breathe and felt like his heart would stop any moment now. His ears hurt and he felt as if his head would explode with pain, covering his ears with his hands didn't help much, the pounding of the engine caused the ship's hull to vibrate in a deep resonance that entered his very bones.

Antoinette heard him scream and hurried to him. "Erik!" she yelled, slapping him, "Stop screaming!"

"Make it stop!" he begged like a frightened child, unable to control himself in his pain.

"Get a hold of yourself!" she rebuked him, grabbing his wrists with all her strength, "If you scream like that you bring the whole crew down on us!"

He nodded, knowing she was right, but he didn't dare think they would be imprisoned in that horrible ship for god knows how long. He had clearly overestimated his own endurance and he was frightened by the knowledge that this noise would damage his sense of hearing - the only thing he had he could enjoy in this cruel world. He allowed Antoinette to pull him into her arms like a child, she sat there between barrels, allowing him to rest his head in her lap as he cried.

Whatever comfort Erik found, it didn't last long for Meg came looking for her mother instead of staying hidden. Erik jumped and moved away from both women, ashamed of himself. He hated to be weak, even more so crying like a baby in front of a young girl.

"Mother! Why do you allow **him** to be with you and I have to stay in my own place?" Meg complained, " **I** am your daughter!"

"Meg, please. He is through so much, he needed..."

" **He** is responsible for all our suffering! Why are you helping him anyways? All he did was causing even more suffering for everyone!" Meg yelled.

"Hush! Keep your voice down!" Antoinette warned her, "I told you he saved my life..."

"And who told you he didn't cause that terrible fire? He certainly is capable of something like that, we've seen what he does just for fun!" Meg went on as if Erik couldn't hear her over the noise of the engine.

"Stop that!" her mother ordered her sternly.

Suddenly Meg was grabbed from behind. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" a sailor asked, "I thought we might have rats or even a stowaway, but I never thought to find such a lovely girl."

Meg kicked and screamed and tried to free herself, but the sailor was much stronger and soon other men arrived, alarmed by the uproar. It wasn't difficult to seize Antoinette and Meg Giry, they were no match for strong men.

"Erik! Erik, help us!" Meg yelled. Erik groaned silently. Now they had given him away. He might have made it, but not now that everyone knew he was there. Damn that girl! He should never have agreed to take both women with him! Erik silently cursed his decision not to abandon them and sneak on board alone, leaving them to their fate.

One of the sailors held a knife at Meg's neck. "Come out, or I'll cut that pretty little throat. But that would be a shame, wouldn't it? Such a pretty girl..."

Erik knew he had lost. Whatever he did now, there was no way he could hide for the weeks - or months - to come. He stood up and showed himself.

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 _to be continued_

 _Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, I really love reviews (like every author does)._

 _Next chapter will be up either on Friday or Monday._


	5. Over the Ocean (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Over the Ocean (cont.)**

They were seized and taken to the captain. The captain was a young man who stood out of the crew for he was correctly dressed and kept himself like a gentleman.

Erik was held by the two strongest men - two of the boilermen held him, their muscles steeled from shoveling tons of coal to fire the steam engine for years - and all his struggles were futile, their grip was like being fixed by a screw clamp.

"It seems we have a problem, gentlemen," the captain addressed his men who gathered nosily, "What are we to do with stowaways?"

"The last captain didn't like the paperwork that comes with them - he just threw them overboard. If they are good swimmers they could make it back to Calais in about two days," one of the sailors answered and the others laughed. Obviously they had done this before. And of course no one could ever swim for two days and they knew perfectly well.

"No! Please... let us live! You can't kill us!" Antoinette begged.

Erik was silent. He had given up struggling and accepted that they would die now. There was nothing they could do now and he was physically exhausted and his nerves couldn't take more. He stood there and watched with irrational indifference, not able to care any longer what would happen to them. He felt as if he was leaning back in his chair and watching a performance on stage, curious how it might turn out.

"We are not in the middle-ages!" the captain replied, "We'll do this like honorable seaman ought to do - we make them work to pay for their food and water and hand them over to the authorities when we come back to France."

"No!" Meg Giry screamed and started begging the captain to spare them, to let them leave the ship somewhere, anywhere but France.

"And no one touches the girls!" the captain instructed, "If I learn that anyone of you had his dirty hands on them, you are liable to end up in the brig and be handed over to the authorities as soon as we arrive in New York. You know what they do to rapists." All men nodded. They were no brutes, even if they surely looked like that and everyone had a wife and children at home, so of course they wouldn't do that to a woman.

"Now that we are already short of hands I suggest that we leave every housework to these two women. Cleaning, cooking, sewing and so on. Should keep them busy for at least 16 hours a day," the captain announced, "And this man here - he'll help the firemen in the much-loved night shift."

* * *

It was horrible for Erik to be taken to the engine room. The heat from the large steam engine boilers hit him so he felt like he had been thrown directly in an inferno. It was almost impossible to breathe in that hot air that was filled with the stench of smoke, hot grease and coal dust. Erik was used to the coldness of the catacombs, he wasn't used to heat - he hadn't even been out of the opera house at daytime in years! And now he was in a room that felt like the heat would melt away his skin as he was standing there.

The chief machine operator grinned at Erik. "And you are the one to help us? You look like you can't even hold a shovel with your girlish hands." All men were covered in sweat and coal dust so much, their faces were barely recognizeable and the sweat dripping down their backs left small lines looking like rivulets on a black mountain.

Erik coughed as he finally had to breathe. The thunder of the engine shook his body as if the noise would shake his bones and crush his brain and heart. Most of the boilermen were hard of hearing and Erik felt like his ears would explode any moment now. Someone pushed a shovel in his hands and told him to help them shoveling coals into the boilers. "She's a hungry lady, our Little Lilly." Little Lilly was the name of the steam engine.

Erik was forced to take off the scarf he had used to hide his face and his shirt for he couldn't work with that on, the loose clothing was at risk catching fire when he was close to the boilers. He had to strip down to the ragged trousers he wore and soon noticed another problem - he had no shoes. All other men had heavy boots for good reason. If he was to work - and he was sure these men had the means to force him if he refused - he would need some kind of shoes. Fortunately for him one man gave him a pair of nearly worn out boots, that was surely better than nothing, even if these boots were far too large for him.

He didn't last long. The shift was twelve hours and he broke down after only two. Standing upright and breathing was a challenge in the engine room for it was terribly hot and the stench of hot grease, smoke, sweat and coal dust hurt his lungs, shoveling coals there was too much. The other men roared with laughter, mocked his weakness and that a girl could do better. Erik tried to push himself up, but all he could do was crawl to the door, he needed air.

They laughed even more. "You really have no idea what you are doing?" the chief machinist told him grinning, "We are locked in, as is custom on this ship. We will be locked in during our shift and we will be locked in when in port until our contract is done."

Erik looked up, staring at them. He was too busy trying to fend off the darkness at the edges of his vision to voice his question, but obviously the other men could guess what he was about to ask. "They lock us in so we can't desert at first chance. With a workplace like this, who wouldn't make a run for it whenever he has the chance?"

"But... you are here of your free will?" Erik finally found his voice, but he wasn't talking loud enough for them to hear him. He had to repeat the question five times before he got the rather confusing answer that this was life. When he asked for some water they told him the water rations were for those who worked and he had to wait for breakfast since they were the night shift.

Erik had no idea how he really survived the night, he might have passed out in the terrible heat and his attempts to do at least some work to earn a water ration - fighting for it would get him nowhere, these men were far too strong - but it was too much for his already weakened body. He woke up because someone emptied a bucket of cold sea-water over him, telling him to get up, the night was over.

"Not so fast, laddie!" the chief machinist held him back, "Since you didn't last at least half your shift you are the doggie now and a dog does not walk upright, does not eat from the table and certainly does not use his hands eating or drinking." The men laughed as they forced him to his knees effortlessly and bound a rope around his neck like a leash. One of the men took an iron rod with him, telling him to better be "a good dog" or he would have to teach him obedience.

It was horrible for Erik to have to crawl an hands and knees, half naked and filthy as he was, and endure the mockery of the sailors who of course had anticipated he would fail and get this punishment. They made him crawl all the way to the mess where they would get something to eat and drink. To his humiliation Erik saw that Meg and her mother were there, constantly busy serving food or taking the used dishes away. They would see this. He got up. He couldn't stay down and let them see this. Two men grabbed him and forced him down to his knees again, the third one pulled on the rope, cutting off his breathing. Erik landed on his face painfully and felt the weight of two heavy men on his back, he could barely breathe. "Are you going to be good now?" one man sneered at him. Erik nodded frantically, he needed air, he would do anything now to be allowed to breathe again.

Meg and Antoinette watched in horror as Erik was forced to crawl to a corner of the room where a sailor put up two metal bowls, one with the food they would get for breakfast - stale bread in some water so it would be edible - and a second bowl with water.

When Erik reached for the bowls with his hands he was thrown on his back by a violent pull on the rope around his neck. "Dogs don't use their hands. Do it like a dog or leave it!" the chief machinist commanded and the sailors roared in laughter. Life on board of a ship was dull enough and now they had a good laugh at the expense of a stowaway.

Erik fought with himself. His dignity - or what was left of it - demanded that he wouldn't lower himself to eat and drink like an animal but his body desperately needed water and nourishment, no matter what. He finally gave up and bend over the water bowl to drink, he couldn't contain his thirst any longer.

"Good doggie, good doggie, good doggie!" some men mocked him and one even petted his head. Then they took off the rope.

"We can repeat this as often as you like," the chief machinist told him, "It's up to you. Work like everyone else and you will be spared."

* * *

It did not become much better for Erik in the days that followed. He knew he was at their mercy for they could easily just throw the three of them overboard and be done with it and they were somewhere on the Antlantic Ocean. But try as he might, he definitely lacked the strength and stamina necessary to work in the engine room. He tried to make it at least six hours, but even that was too much for him. He never made it more than four hours before he couldn't remain on his feet any longer. Worst of all, the other boilermen had their water rations for their shift - he got none. Maybe if he had some water, he would have lasted longer, but they made sure he got nothing.

After only one week he didn't consider being thrown overboard such a terrible fate. Instead of returning to the room where the boilermen slept - they had a room of their own for they were considered too smelly to share the dormitory with the other sailors - he went to the deck. Only the officers had their own cabin. Erik was forced to sleep on the floor despite the fact that some of the bunks were empty - he was still called "dog" and had to live like a dog. At least some merciful soul had provided a warm blanket for him.

Erik sat on deck at the stern, staring at the foam the ship trailed behind. It was early morning and he had just endured the somewhat ritualistic humiliation after his shift. It failed to make the men laugh at him since it happened every day, but he didn't think they would grow tired of it. One little jump over the rather small ship's rail and everything would be over. But he still feared the agony of drowning.

Suddenly someone placed a bucket with seawater next to him. "I thought you might need this," Meg said. Of course no one on this ship would waste much needed drinking water to wash when there was plenty of salt-water around them. Erik looked up and gratefully accepted the offer. He wouldn't take off his ragged shirt in her presence, but he could wash his hands and head. When he started rubbing his head and neck he noticed that his hands were bleeding. Meg noticed too and asked gently: "May I help you?"

Erik nodded and sat back on his heels. Erik just sat there, staring. He couldn't believe this girl helped him again. Meg looked at his hands, the palms covered in blisters, most of them already ripped open, and asked if it hurt.

Erik shook his head. He didn't feel his hands at all, so it didn't hurt. The girl ripped off the sleeves of her shirt and began to bandage his hands with them.

"How... how do they treat you?" Erik asked, finally realizing that life on board must be even harder for a young girl.

Meg suddenly began crying.

"O God," Erik whispered horrified.

"No... they didn't do that," Meg answered sniffing, "They just stare and grope and lift our skirts and make dirty remarks, but they didn't do that to us, they only threaten to do it. But what they do is... awful. Can you imagine their filthy hands on your breast or legs all day long?"

"Actually..." Erik was about to say that being touched alone wasn't that bad, he suffered worse each day, but he decided against it. It wouldn't help to engage in a competition who-suffers-more.

They stood side by side and stared at the sea for a while.

"Erik?"

He turned to face her.

"Do you think drowning is... painful?" she asked.

Erik stared at her in shock. Such a young girl should never think like this. "Yes. It is very painful," he answered, hoping this would be the right answer. "Meg, why the disappointed face? You wouldn't leave your mother alone, would you?"

She looked up at him. "Mother needs me, doesn't she? I'm her only daughter and if I'm not around who would care for her when she grows old?" Meg replied in a somewhat mechanic voice.

"I need to get some sleep," Erik said softly, "Thank you, Meg."

"Erik, will you answer one more question before I get back to sweeping floors?"

"If it does not take too much time..."

"If love were a flower, what would it be?" Meg asked.

Erik stared at her, then laughed out. "Now that's a stupid question, child. Love is no flower and never will be so why bother?"

* * *

The night after that the ship was in an uproar for the chief machinist had stopped the engine and refused to fire it again. They had to wake the captain for the officer on duty couldn't deal with that problem alone.

"There is no way I'm firing the boilers now!" the chief machinist stated firmly and his helpers nodded.

"Where's the problem?" a rather drowsy captain asked.

"Dog found a problem," one of the boilermen - a short man with many scars from burn wounds - explained. Soon after that Erik was being pushed before the captain.

"A, our stowaway. What do you understand of steam engines that you make my crew rebellious?"

"Nothing, sir," Erik answered with overdone humility, "But when a safety valve is blocked this is never a good sign."

Erik showed them that one safety valve of one of the boilers was blocked. The metal must have overheated and was slightly bend, barely visible in the dim light in the bowls of the ship, but the valve wouldn't open in case the boiler overheated.

"Repair that!" the captain decided.

* * *

After this Erik suddenly wasn't forced to play the dog any longer. He was allowed to sit with the other machine operators and boilermen when they had their meals and they allowed him to sleep in one of the bunks. He wasn't treated like a colleague, they still let him feel that he was a weakling and would never be one of them, but they treated him like a human being now.

With the firemen it was easier for Erik than with anyone else. Most of them had scars from accidents. Erik was the most deformed of them, but when everyone bore scars his deformity wasn't a cause for mockery and mistreatment.

It didn't get better for Meg or her mother. They still suffered sexual harassment, not in the worst form, but being groped each day and constantly confronted with dirty jokes and vile threats made their lives miserable. They didn't get any help from Erik and felt as if he had turned against them now that he was more or less accepted by the machine operators, he even laughed at their jokes. They couldn't know that Erik was not happy with that but his standing was so hard, he didn't dare make the tiniest mistake that would cause them to turn against him again - he didn't want to be the prime target for their questionable humor again.

When Meg found Erik at the ship's bow one morning, she snapped at him: "Why do you laugh when they mistreat us? We didn't laugh when they forced you to eat from the floor like a dog!"

Erik looked at her bewildered. "What did you expect me to do? It was just a slap on the back - nothing serious. Don't make a mountain out of a dust speck!"

Meg tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist. "You... you... bastard! It is all your fault! If you wouldn't exist I'd be still a dancer at the opera! I wish you had never been born!"

"That's three of us, at least," Erik answered coldly, catching her by surprise.

"Three?"

"You, me, my mother - that makes three," Erik replied.

Meg felt her fury being drained out of her, leaving only painful pity for the deformed man before her. His face was worse than before - his habit of moving around without a mask now and watching the sunrise had caused a terrible sunburn and all over his head the skin was peeling off in tiny pieces.

They stood there, watching the golden glow of the sun over the blue ocean. "That uproar because of the safety valve - that was you, wasn't it? You tried to be the hero and save the day so they would be thankful now. You sabotaged it yourself."

Erik turned to her, an amused sparkle in his eyes. She could only see the rather normal side of his face and in the light of this morning he looked strangely normal to her. "You think so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "Well, better keep your thoughts to yourself unless you could prove it before a court."

"I'm scared, Erik," Meg admitted, "They are going to hand us over to the authorities in France, aren't they?"

"That is to be seen," Erik answered, "We wouldn't be the first rats to disembark secretly."

Meg nodded. She trusted Erik to find a way to save himself, but she was not sure he would save her mother and her. He was no hero, he was a selfish monster and would easily abandon them as soon as he wouldn't need them any longer.

"Meg, I thought about your question," Erik said suddenly, "If love were a flower, I think it would be a venus flytrap. Living in treacherous swamp, luring its unsuspecting prey to its death."

"Isn't that a rather pessimistic view?" the young dancer asked and ran a hand over her head. She liked that her hair was growing back now.

"If you didn't want to know, why did you ask?"

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _It seems like Erik has a plan..._

 _I finished this chapter before the weekend! YAY!_

 _Please review. Next chapter will be up next week._


	6. America

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **America**

They arrived at New York at night due to another problem with the steam engine. One of the boilers had a small crack and so they had to do with the rest of the boilers, which cost them much speed. Such things happen on old steamships and no one thought twice about that - maybe no one but Meg and her mother who had a certain suspicion who the ship's hobgoblin might be the seamen blamed for their misfortunes on this voyage.

So the two women were not really surprised when a fire broke out in the mass - most sailors smoked and someone had forgotten a cigarette on a handkerchief. A really odd mistake, but these things happened sometimes and the fire was extinguished soon. Only had they forgotten to lock the three stowaways in the brig, so the three of them quite innocently disembarked helping to carry pieces of load. Erik even had the audacity to return and fetch another piece as he was asked by a workman at the docks to help him with a heavy crate.

Meg and her mother stood rather helpless aside, trying to conceal themselves in the shadows between crates that were already there. Suddenly Erik grabbed their hands, so he was between them. "Not a word. Just run!" he hissed and pulled them away with him.

They soon found that they could not leave the harbor easily for customs authorities and immigration control had it guarded and they didn't know anything about that harbor. Neither one of them knew anything about the harbor, they had no money, no papers, no food and not even proper clothing - the two women were still in the ragged dresses they had worn when they left France and Erik wore a ragged shirt and workmen's trousers that were covered in grease, sweat and coal dust. His shoes were so worn they had little holes and cracks all over them, it was a miracle how they were kept together by then.

The three of them huddled in a gap between staples of crates, not knowing what they could do now. Erik sat in the middle, Meg to his left and Antoinette to his right. It was a warm summer night, but the wind was rather cold. They just sat there, pressed against each other to get what little warmth they could now. Erik promised to keep watch while they slept, but soon his eyes fell shut and he too was asleep.

They woke because a noise nearby startled them. Erik was the first one to recover from his sleep and get his bearings - with the survival instincts of a wild animal he knew immediately that they were in trouble and tried to run, not caring if the two women would follow him. Meg, well-trained dancer that she was, could follow him as he squeezed himself through the labyrinth of containers and finally climbed up on one of the more solid pile of them. Antoinette didn't follow them in time and was soon caught by two guards.

As she screamed for help, Meg turned round to get to her. Erik held her back and whispered: "We can still make it."

Meg answered loud enough to alert all guards in the next fivehundred meters: "No! She's my mother, we won't leave her!" Erik silently cursed her and his weakness to take them with him - he should have left them when he had the chance. Or he should have killed them, both of them, back in France. Too late for that.

With the guards already alerted he saw only one chance - go there and pretend to be just another immigrant who got lost in the large harbor.

He approached them with his hands up, showing his palms. The guards grabbed him roughly and pushed him towards the two women, yelling at them. Meg and Antoinette didn't understand English, Erik knew at least something but the English these guards spoke had nothing to do with the English he had heard before. He couldn't understand anything. "Don't understand..." he called out.

"What are you doing here? Who are you?" one of the guards asked very slowly.

Erik had to translate the sentence in his head into French, think of an answer in French and struggled to translate his answer to English. It wasn't easy and took some time. "Lost our way," he finally managed.

"I say you're just plain thieves!" the guard accused him.

"No!" No was always the right answer to any accusation.

"How did you get here?"

"Ship."

The guards laughed, they had the suspicion that these riffraff were trying to avoid immigration control so they hadn't come with a passenger ship but used either a cargo ship or been smuggled in by some private ship or fishing boat.

"To the immigration office!" the guard ordered, pointing at Erik with his gun. Erik hung his head and decided to do as they ordered - with two unlocked guns aimed at him he knew he had no chance. He could only decide if he wanted to die now or later and despite his desperate state he didn't want to die. Not now.

* * *

The immigration center had different rooms for the various kinds of people. One was for the rich and mighty. They were greeted with snacks and drinks and didn't have to wait more than a few minutes before they were welcomed to New York. The middle-class people had to wait longer, but they too were given some refreshments and at least had a rather comfortable waiting room. The working class people had to wait for hours standing in line in the overcrowded waiting room reserved for them and then there was the cell block for those who had no papers or the authority had decided to reject them and send them back to wherever they came from. There Erik and the Girys were locked in a tiny room that wasn't larger than four square meters.

They had to wait for hours in that tiny room. Meg was sobbing hysterically and Erik tried his best not to lose his temper but eventually he could take no more of her crying and yelled at her: "Stop that or I'll break your neck!"

"Erik, she's just frightened!" Antoinette stood between them to protect her daughter.

"I'll give you a reason to be frightened!" Erik couldn't control himself any longer, he slapped both women so hard, they would have fallen, had the room not been that narrow - they couldn't fall to the ground when they already stood with their backs at the wall. Erik took a deep breath, clenched his fists and tried to control himself. He had not meant to hit them, but being together with them in such a narrow space in this really hopeless situation he had lost control. "Be quiet and I won't hit you again," he promised and leaned his head against the cold steel of the door, trying not to think of what would become of them. He was ashamed of himself for hitting women. He should not have done that, should have been in control of himself, he did not want to be such a brute, surely not. Losing control was absolutely unacceptable, but he couldn't ask for forgiveness right now.

The door was opened with so much force from the outside that Erik nearly lost his balance. "Come!" the guards ordered and gestured for all three of them to follow. They passed a corridor with many holding-cells at each side and finally stood in a large office. Two guards at the door and four more in each corner of the room. The name tags on the desk indicated that the two men behind the desk were an official and a doctor.

"Show your face," the doctor ordered.

"No," Erik refused automatically but when he noticed the guards unlocking their guns he tried to reason: "Accident. Hurt."

"Take it off!"

Erik reluctantly obeyed. The doctor came closer and examined his face. "If this was an accident, its an old one," he told the official who took notes.

"Papers?" the official asked.

"Stolen," Erik answered, deciding it was better to pretend someone stole their papers than admit the truth.

"Then you need two witnesses who confirm your identity," the official stated and Erik pointed to the two Girys. "No. I guess their papers were 'stolen' as well? They do not count. Do you have a guarantor?"

Erik shrugged helplessly. "I don't understand..."

When the official asked the Girys they understood even less and Erik was unable to translate every detail. He just informed them that without papers it was hopeless.

The doctor informed the official that the two women were rather healthy, the elder one having a crippled leg, but able to walk and work. Both were healthy and had almost all of their teeth, which was a surprise, especially in Antoinette Giry's age. As for Erik the doctor stated that he was horribly disfigured, but carried no apparent illness.

"Name?" the official asked.

"Meg Giry and Antoinette Giry," Erik answered, pointing to the women to indicate which was which one.

"Your name?" the official asked.

At the same time the doctor said: "You can't act as translator here."

Erik replied, after he had again first translated the questions to French, thought of an answer and then translated the answer as best as he could: "Why?" He was addressing the doctor, but the official took it as answer to his question.

"Y? Your name is Y? You are really a stupid folk, not even having a proper name. Given name?"

Erik didn't understand what the official was talking about but finally answered the question about his name: "Erik."

"Okay, Mr. Erik Y, tell me if you have a guarantor?"

"What is guarantor?" Erik asked. He had not heard that word before.

"Someone who knows you and is willing to pay all your bills if you can't pay."

Erik shook his head. Of course he knew no such person.

"Maybe we can help you," the doctor told him, "But I need to examine you and both women completely to make sure. You need to undress, so I guess you'd rather do that in another room where it is just the two of us?"

Erik was mistrustful. It wasn't just the fact that he would have to expose not only his face but his body too - knowing that his body was far from perfect - but what sort of help would they - whoever 'they' were - could offer? And what would they demand in return? He wasn't so naive to think there would not be a high price to pay for their help. But what choice did he have now? He could only comply, but before that he translated to the Girys that the doctor would have to do a careful examination in another room, all of them, so they had to be prepared to undress a little.

"I'm thirsty," Meg complained, "And hungry and cold and I need to use the bathroom."

Erik rolled his eyes and translated her wish to the official, adding that they had been imprisoned for hours and maybe should be allowed some relief - or it might get messy. One guard pointed to a bucket in a corner and replied: "Alright. We'll keep an eye on you so don't try something odd!"

It was certainly degrading, especially for the Girys, to relief themselves under the amused stares of male guards, but what could they do? Everyone has to answer the call of nature eventually. It was even worse to undress before the doctor, at least no guards were there to stare. Erik thought it would be easier for the two women for they at least had normal bodies to present to the doctor while the women thought it would be easier for him, at least he was male. After that humiliating procedure they were taken back to the holding cell and locked in.

* * *

Late that night they were woken because the door was opened with a bang. Erik was on his feet at once, ready for a fight - and reluctantly raised his hands as he saw two guards with unlocked guns before him, two more a few meters behind them. He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance. But he was scared by the fact that it was dark night - surely the official wouldn't work at night?

They were lead to another room this time, the official and a doctor were already there together with another man. This other man was rather small and round, he had the darkest eyes Erik had ever seen. With his dark eyes and the grey hair he reminded of a rat.

He approached Erik and went around him, studying him like one would a horse at the horse market. "Take off your shirt," he ordered. Erik shook his head. He surely would not undress before all these people, it had been bad enough to let the doctor examine him.

"Do it!" one of the guards ordered, aiming his gun. Erik wondered if this was only these guards or if always pointing with an unlocked gun at someone was a typically American habit.

"No. I'd rather go back to France," he decided, knowing fully well this would be his death sentence.

"I'm not interested in the two women," the rat-like man said, "There are plenty of whores in Coney Island, but this freak is unique. Let me do this, will you?" The official nodded and the man turned to Erik, offering his hand: "Sam Singer, owner of Sam Singer's Spectacular Show. That is the world famous vaudeville theater in Coney Island, surely you've heard about it?" Erik shook his head, feeling his stomach tense up. He had the nasty feeling that he would have been better off if the police had arrested him in France.

"Not heard about me? I'm offended. Never mind. You see, I run a vaudeville theater of the highest class, not a freakshow. Being a freak isn't enough to sell tickets nowadays, you'll have to do something, something that draws in the crowds. Tell me, what can you do?"

"I didn't agree..." Erik refused.

"No? As you wish, you can go back to wherever you came from," he turned to the women: "There are enough brothels which would accept you." Looking at Antoinette he added: "If you are able to order men around harshly and crack the whip you could make quite a fortune despite your age."

Erik almost laughed at the thought. Antoinette would have made a perfect sergeant, despite her gender. Remembering how she had ruled the corps de ballet with an iron fist as naturally as he had ruled the entire opera house he knew what she was able to do - only that she wouldn't want it. The Girys didn't understand and Erik refused to translate, even as they asked him what they were talking about. He decided it was better to keep them in the dark.

He had not counted on Mr. Singer to speak French, but the man did. A heavily accented French, but he could inform both women that he was running a variety and only interested in the freak - if he wouldn't sign the contract, the two women would better find employment at some brothel or get married immediately, the guards would find someone for them.

Meg nearly fainted and Antoinette yelled at Erik: "You selfish bastard! You are responsible for this whole mess - now you want to sell us to a brothel? Are you mad? You irresponsible, selfish creature, after all we did for you, you'd do this to us?"

"Do you have the slightest idea what you are asking of me?" Erik yelled back and might have hit her had there not been so many armed guards, "You want me to sell myself to this show - I would be a freak in a circus like a trained monkey! You know what that means? I've been there, I know what it is like. Never. I'd rather die!"

"And you'd rather have us die too?" Antoinette asked icily, "Meg is so very young."

Erik's shoulders slumped. He was fighting with himself for a decision. Finally he lifted his head, a hard glare in his eyes. "Fine. You owe me, Antoinette, both of you. And I'll come to call in that debt." He turned round and asked in his slow and heavily accented English: "Mr. Singer, what do you want to know?"

"Just what the three of you could do in my show."

Erik sighed. "The two women - the elder one is a ballet mistress, the younger one a perfectly trained ballerina. I'm a musician, I play almost every instrument, except wind instruments." He gestured to his malformed lips. Of course he wouldn't be able to play wind instruments with his lips. "I'm an artist too, a director and conductor and of course composer and... if you need one, I can do magic tricks, but that would need some time to prepare the props."

"You exaggerate your abilities," Sam Singer skeptically replied and crossed his arms.

"I do not!" Erik was really annoyed now.

"Prove it!"

"How? You do not happen to have an instrument with you by chance?"

"Of course not. Can you sing?"

Erik shook his head in denial that this really happened to him. This could only be a nightmare. "Yes," he reluctantly admitted. Singing was something very intimate for him, he didn't like the thought of singing before an audience in a vaudeville show. But what could he do? Somehow Antoinette was right, he was responsible for their dire situation, he would have to find a way out of this. This Sam Singer was offering a way out - he would be a fool not to use that. He asked for some water, he couldn't sing with his mouth being dry.

And then he sang. He was scared by how much his hearing had been affected by the weeks in the excessive noise of the steamship. Would his ears heal? Were his hands too affected from the hard labor?

While Erik was ashamed of his unworthy performance, the other people - including the Girys - stood in awe at his masterful voice.

"You have the contract," Sam Singer said, "And if I have to hire the two girls too - you can all have contracts." He reached into his briefcase and took out three papers, placing them on the table.

The official, knowing that they didn't speak English well enough, filled in their names and started filling their papers. They would get identification papers and an official admittance to stay in America. Then the official wrote the protocol of this meeting, saying: "Mr. Sam Singer comes to the immigration office and greets his old friends Mr. Erik Y and Miss and Mrs Giry and confirms their identity. They confirm that they know each other for years and Mr. Singer states that they came to America on his invitation, they are going to work in his circus and shows the contracts they have signed three months ago."

Erik said nothing. He understood what was going on better than the Girys. He was being sold - Sam Singer would pay the official and his accomplices a rather large sum as finder's fee and they would have to work it off. Quickly calculating the wages they would earn from now on and the 'loan' that was clearly defined in the contracts he knew for sure they would never be free. They would have to work until they had paid back the loan, but with 15% interest a year and a meager wage they would be slaves for the rest of their lives.

He kept silent for now, pretending he hadn't understood what was really behind these contracts. First things first - once in the circus he could think of the next steps. America has always been praised as the land of freedom and the land of opportunity - surely he would find a way out of this and if it was over the dead body of the rat-like Sam Singer.

* * *

As they sat in the carriage of Mr. Singer, the women on one side, the men on the other, Erik watched as the Girys fell asleep, envying their blissful lack of knowledge. They just thought they had signed contracts to work in a vaudeville show.

"And here I thought slavery was outlawed in America," Erik said.

Sam Singer smiled at him. "It is. Our contracts are perfectly legal. Don't worry, it is not so bad being in my employment. You'll have a roof over your heads and your feet under the table - that is much more than most immigrants are ever going to have in their lives. I'll keep you fed and clothed - what more can you possibly hope for?"

Erik shook his head. He felt sick. Of course he had noticed that Sam Singer had their papers - and would surely hide them very well once they were in his variety theater.

"Why the sour face? You ought to be grateful - in most cities, villages and countries being ugly is outlawed. New York is one of the states where the ugly laws are not enforced."

Erik stared at Sam Singer in shock. It was illegal to be ugly? What kind of country was that? It had been bad enough in Europe where he had been forced to hide himself to escape the constant mockery and humiliation, but at least the crimes committed against him were not sanctioned by law. And here, in this country, the law was on the side of his tormentors! They could imprison him just because he was existing. He shuddered.

"It is not as bad as it seems now," Sam Singer said, "You'll get used to it. They all do."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Erik would never go to Coney Island of his own free will - he would have preferred to die, but he is being sold like a slave, and he does not fight because he wants to protect Antoinette and Meg Giry. These things actually did happen - and do happen even today._

 _At least they are not in any danger of being send back in chains and handed over to the French authorities now._


	7. His Own Kind

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **His Own Kind**

They traveled for hours through the streets Erik could not see in the darkness and didn't even care to look. He must have fallen asleep despite the high speed the carriage was driving, for when the carriage stopped he nearly fell from his seat of the carriage.

They were before a building that was easily recognizable as variety theater. It was a rather large building for just a vaudeville theater but it was rather small for a theater building. The building was crude, Erik strongly disliked the design, but he wouldn't complain about that now. He had more pressing matters.

Sam Singer lead them through a side entrance to the back-area of the building. They passed some workshops and came to a canteen-kitchen. A woman was busy cleaning the kitchen despite the late hour. They discussed something, then the woman placed cold soup and bread on a table. "We're out of steak," she said, and gave them slices of bread and glasses of wine mixed with water. Erik had to take off the bandage from his head because he couldn't eat with that on. Not one of them showed any reaction, the Girys because they saw nothing but the food on their plates and Sam Singer and his cook because they were used to freaks as employees for the show.

When they were done eating, Mr. Singer showed them to the dormitories. Again they had to climb up stairs, then they passed a door which was painted in blue. "Men's dormitories and bathroom. No women and no freaks allowed," Mr. Singer informed them. The next floor a red door. "Women's dormitory and bathroom. No men and no freaks allowed." Erik winced. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or grateful that the normal people and the freaks had separate rooms.

Sam Singer knocked and a sleepy woman opened the door. "What?" she snapped angrily.

"Two new ones. Dancer and ballet mistress. The show for this season is already standing so she's to work in the laundry until we find another use for her. They speak only French, so Giselle should take them under her wing and show them everything!" Mr. Singer ordered.

"Yes, sir," the woman yawned, then waved her hand at the Girys: "Come in, girls, lets find a bed for you." She was not at all surprised that two new women were brought there in the middle of the night.

Another staircase led to a brown door. No color, Erik noticed. Mr. Singer didn't knock but just opened the door to a large dormitory. It was just one large room with another door at the other side. Narrow beds stood in two lines at both sides of the room, a trunk at the foot of every bed.

"This is the freak's dormitory," Sam Singer explained, then turned towards the first person he saw - a tall man, he was a giant. Average men at in the late 19th century were a bit smaller than 170 centimeters, 168 centimeters to be exact, average women about 155 centimeters. Erik was a rather tall man with about 180 centimeters, but this man was more than one head taller than Erik, he was over 2 meters tall. "Joe, this is Erik Y, the new one. We haven't decided on a name or a show yet, but take him under your wing, will you? He's rather slow in English, but I guess he'll understand more than he can speak."

Mr. Singer closed the door and was gone. Erik stood there, feeling completely helpless.

Joe the giant held out his hand and greeted Erik politely. Then he just put his arm around Erik's shoulder as if he was taking the command to take him under his wings literally. Erik stood stock-still, he hated being touched by strangers, even if this seemed to be a friendly gesture.

"You can have the bed next to mine," he pointed to an empty bed, the trunk at its footboard was open and empty, like some other trunks. Obviously the dormitory was meant for more people than actually lived there. Erik nodded. He was exhausted and now that he was no longer hungry and thirsty the bed looked really inviting to him. Only then did he realize that men and women were in the same dormitory.

"Welcome to our gang. Let's introduce you to all of us," the giant said, "My stage-name is Giant Joe, my name is Dr. Johann Gängelmann."

"A doctor?" Erik asked surprised, "If you are a doctor, what are you doing here?"

"We have a rule here, Mr. Erik Y," Joe replied, "If someone wants to tell you something - fine. If not, don't ask."

"I'm fine with that," Erik replied, not being asked uncomfortable questions did sound good to him.

"Hey, come here!" Joe cried out, "We have a new one!"

A fat woman edged closer, studied Erik briefly and informed a very tall black woman: "Awwwww - he's a cutie!"

"Cute?" Erik didn't trust his ears. Had someone just called him cute? A cutie?

"We call everyone who does not need help with his everyday needs and can look normal with the right clothing a cutie," Joe informed him, "I'm no cutie. I can never mask my height."

Erik was speechless.

"I'm Suzie," the fat woman greeted him, "Stage name Fattest Woman on Earth."

"I want to see him too!" a male voice complained from one of the beds.

Joe led Erik to that bed and said: "This is Benny the Bread-Man." Erik stared at the man on the bed. He had a head and a torso. Nothing more, not even a real neck. No arms, no legs, no hands and no feet. He looked a bit like a bread indeed. "Benny is our comedian. There are not many jokes he does not know. There is another rule here. If anyone needs help, the next one who is able to help will do that. If Benny needs anything, you help him. In case you need something you will get help too. Refuse to help him and you're going to regret it."

Erik stared at Benny. The man was lying naked on the bed and waiting for someone to dress him or cover him with a sheet - that man could do nothing without help.

"Hello, I'm Vincent. Vincent the artist and scene designer," a man said and held out his right foot as if it was a hand, balancing on his left foot. He had no arms.

Erik was paralyzed by the far too many impressions that nearly crushed him now. Vincent took a cigarette from his pocket, placed it in his mouth, took a match and lit the cigarette all with his right foot. After that he took out a piece of paper, a sketch he had drawn. They laughed as Erik stared, wondering how this man could have such a dexterity with his feet.

"This is our dwarf woman Irene Fleck," Joe went on, "She's my partner on stage." Of course. The dwarf and the giant. Classical pairing like the fat woman and the skeleton-man.

"This is our strong-woman Attamamma," Joe said, pointing to the black woman. The black woman grinned at him, showing her well-muscled arms. Erik wondered if this woman was stronger than him, seeing her arms he thought so. "And here is her partner, our strong-man Squelch." Squelch seemed to be rather short and fat, but Erik didn't question his strength.

"Hi, I'm Tilly Three Legs," a small woman said and shook Erik's hand. He let her, not knowing what to do. Tilly wore a short dress that left her three legs and three feet visible. "Suzie is right, you're really a cutie," she exclaimed in a way that made Erik wonder if these two women actually were interested in him or just making fun. He couldn't tell now, his senses might deceive him, or maybe this was just some weird nightmare and he would wake up any moment now. Wake up to what? The sewers in Paris? The steamship? A prison cell?

"And last but not least: Meet the He-She," Joe said and pointed to a person looking like a bearded woman. Erik had seen bearded women before, they were not so rare. She had long black hair, a black beard and was really slim, the dress she wore showed her small breasts and clearly female body under the tight-fitting garment.

"He-She?" Erik asked.

"Be polite to him/her, he/she is our costume designer and tailor. If you do not want to end up with a ragged loincloth as costume on stage you'd better be nice to him/her," Joe explained. Using always the words for both genders seemed to be natural when talking about a person who actually was both genders, but Erik didn't really believe that.

"Let's go to bed," Tilly yawned and started to undress. Erik blushed and turned away.

"Only one bathroom for us," Joe explained, "Better get used to it now, tomorrow you will not have the time for modesty between the performances." He showed Erik the bathroom. Many faucets and sinks were there, they all could wash at the same time, which would be necessary when they had little time to wash and change between the show acts. But that men and women had to use the same room at the same time was something Erik could not accept.

"Better do it," Joe warned him, "The toilets are at the far end of the bathroom. We have the luxury of indoor toilets, but only because they are needed so no one of us will be late for his appearance on stage. Imagine the audience waiting while we are waiting in line to use the restroom!" Apparently something like that must have happened for some of the others laughed.

"We make it easier on you," Tilly said, standing before Erik completely naked. She had not only three legs but two womanhoods. Erik stood there, staring open-mouthed like the worst blackguard. He just couldn't look away now, he barely believed what he saw. Tilly was not offended, she just laughed, grabbed her towel and went to the bathroom.

Erik stood paralyzed as the others too prepared to use the bathroom. To his shock the He-She turned out to be really more than a bearded woman, he/she really had male and female genitals. Erik swallowed hard, trying not to be sick. He was the only one completely dressed in the room with naked men, women and - whatever the He-She was. There was nothing erotic about that situation, it was shameful and frightening. The others seemed to be so used to this, they acted as if it was normal.

Someone pushed a towel and a nightshirt in his hands. "Here, you'll need these." Erik could barely hold it, his mind was reeling and he tried to figure out which drug might have caused this horrible nightmare. But a drug-induced nightmare with that many details? Was this possible? Or had he died and ended up in hell? This must be hell, he mused. There was no possible other explanation. Funny, he couldn't remember dying. Or was it that he had died in his sleep and therefor painlessly?

"Come on, we are almost finished," someone rebuked him. Erik didn't care who it was. He just knew he wouldn't - couldn't - undress and wash himself before them. Maybe if there had been only men, but not with women.

"Hurry up, we are all tired and want to sleep!" Benny complained. The dwarf woman covered him with his blanket.

Reluctantly Erik began to take off his shoes and his shirt. He noticed the He-She standing next to him, watching with great interest. "What? I do not like to be stared at!" Erik snapped irritated.

"It is our job to be stared at," the He-She replied softly, "In the family-shows we are modestly dressed, in the adults only we have more revealing costumes and in the men's only nights some of us are stark naked."

"I can't do this," Erik whispered. Hell. He had died and ended up in hell without even a judgment.

Joe gave him a sad glance. "You have no choice. Either that - or you'll be send to the pits."

"Pits?"

"You know pit-fighting? There is an old warehouse where they have fights to amuse the audience. They have everything fighting there: cocks, dogs, sometimes cats, even wild animals and of course men. Most men are there of their own free will, calling it boxing. They would beat you to pulp in half a second."

"Isn't that..." Erik struggled to find the right word. "...not allowed?" He didn't know the word illegal in English.

They laughed bitterly. "This is Coney Island, Mr. Y. Do you really think anyone here cares for the law? There are some mighty men whom all the businessmen here pay for their 'protection', the politicians and officials are corrupt and do what the bosses tell them to do. There are two sides to Coney Island: one sugarcoated happy beach-and-family-entertainment side, all very neat, decent and happy, and a dark one: prostitution, pit-fights, drugs, corruption, blackmail, crime," Joe explained.

"Not so different from everywhere else in the world," Erik mused bitterly. He had not seen one city without that dark side and usually he was struck in the darkness himself.

With a sigh he reluctantly went on undressing, revealing his shame to them. It wasn't just his face that was deformed. His body was twisted too: From his right shoulder to his right elbow, over the right side of his torso and his right leg down to his knee he had the same ugly, distorted flesh as on the right side of his face. It looked like he was modeled in wax and then his right side exposed to heat, melting him, deforming him. His feet hat six toes each. When he finally took off the last piece of clothing he didn't bother covering himself with his hands. He had lost his ability to feel anything. It was a relief to feel nothing at all, no pain, no shame, no anger, no sadness. Nothing. His vision was somewhat blurred, he couldn't focus on anything and he didn't try. A terrible headache was building in the back of his head and he just wanted to lie down. Now the others saw that he was one of those who had even another deformity - he had three testicles.

Erik went through the motions of washing himself, drying and getting dressed in the nightshirt they had given him. It was too short on him, but very wide and worn out. At least it was a man's shirt, but he did not care much about anything then. He just couldn't. He felt like he had the worst hangover ever, but he just had one glass of a little wine and much water.

"I know it looks bad now, but it will get easier in time," the He-She tried to comfort him. He/she had an interesting voice, it was somewhere between tenor and alto, it was impossible to decide if he sounded like a man or a woman. He/she was something in-between. "I'll see to it that you get a nice costume and well-fitting casual clothing to wear in your spare-time. Just leave it to me."

When Erik finally laid down in his bed, he thought he wouldn't be able to sleep after all he'd been through that day, but he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Poor Erik. No wonder he thinks he died and is in hell. Unfortunately this is a realistic scenario for immigrants, be it 19th century or nowadays. I guess Erik would never go to Coney Island of his free will - but if he is more or less sold by a corrupt official of the immigration office, he has no choice. And right now he's too exhausted to do anything about it._

 _All the anomaly in the peoples appearance I describe here are realistic for there have been men and women with exactly these deformities. Every character I describe is inspired by a real person._

 _I do not think Erik's deformity would be just his face. In the musical he loathes his body, describing himself as carcass or gargoyle, so I assume that the deformity extends to his body (but that is easily covered with normal clothing so it wouldn't be a problem, the face is not so easily covered)._


	8. The Show

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **The Show**

Erik was woken as Benny cried out loudly: "Rise and shine, sunny boy!" He nearly fell out of the narrow bed in shock. When he looked around in confusion he dimly remembered the last night. So it hadn't been a dream and this was not hell. Maybe it was hell, but not the real thing, there were no devils and demons torturing him, there would be normal human beings taking over that duty. Erik doubted that hell would even exist - there was no need for hell to exist when every torture would be executed on earth by normal people.

Getting dressed was even worse than in the evening for now Erik couldn't pretend it was only a bad dream. It was really happening and given his experience he should have known it would be like this: normal people found it unthinkable that someone like a freak could have feelings at all, certainly freaks had no modesty, no shame, no sense of honor. So if they are unable to feel like humans do and only capable of feelings like any animal might have, why bother to give them separate bathrooms for men and women? And then - which bathroom would the He-She use?

Erik followed the others downstairs, Squelch was carrying Benny and Attamamma carried Fleck. Fleck could walk the staircase alone, but she was very slowly due to her extremely short legs. She was the size of a four or five year old child.

They went to the room that served as kitchen and canteen. Other people were already there, sitting at some tables.

Among them Antoinette Giry and her daughter Meg. Both were very quiet. They didn't understand English and had only one dancer, Giselle, to talk to for she spoke French and took over teaching them English. When they saw the freaks enter the room, Antoinette held up her hand to wave to Erik and ask him to sit with them. Giselle grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down firmly.

"No! We don't talk to freaks unless it is absolutely necessary. We don't sit with them at the same table. We avoid them whenever possible," Giselle informed them, "They are abominations, they are mad and dangerous."

Antoinette kept silent for she couldn't really tell Giselle that Erik was not mad or dangerous for she knew him to be exactly that.

Erik saw the Girys as well and turned to greet them, but Joe grabbed his arm and held him back. "No! We do not talk to norms. They hate us, mistreat us, mock us. We won't lower ourselves and kiss their backs and say 'thank you' when they abuse us." Erik kept silent. He didn't know what to say, even if he felt somewhat compelled to point out that Antoinette and Meg were different, he didn't dare right now. He had no understanding of any social habits in this damned theater so he decided it would be best to keep quiet and observe for the moment.

After breakfast Sam Singer suddenly showed up and told them they had three new colleagues and that they would try to find a place for them now. Madame Giry was not happy when she was informed that her services as ballet mistress were nothing they would need now, she might get a chance to prove herself the next season. Until then she would work at the laundry, the kitchen and the cleaning team.

Of course the variety wasn't build like an opera house. The seats for the patrons in the seating area were comfortable chairs around small tables and during the shows one could purchase food and drinks from the waitresses. Where theaters had the boxes, a variety had its private rooms. They were just like boxes with small tables and of course waitresses could be called pulling a chord that was connected with a bell at the kitchen so they would know to which box to go. The patrons would eat and drink during the shows, the variety usually earned more with food and drinks than with the tickets.

Then Mr. Singer ordered the members of his orchestra to play one of their dance tunes and the dancers to show the routine. He turned to Meg in his heavily accented French: "Do you think you can just pick up the movements or do you require more training?" Meg laughed as she saw the dancers. They were all mediocre, third-class dancers, most of them only half-trained. None of them would ever have been allowed to even enter an audition at the Opera in Paris.

Meg turned to Erik. "Would you play real dance music for me, please?" she asked and climbed on the stage. She didn't wear real dance shoes, she just got out of her shoes to dance barefooted. Erik asked what exactly she wanted and she decided something classical. Meg considered her dancing nowhere good and Antoinette's face told her she had been absolutely awful, but Mr. Singer and the other employees of the theater stared at her in awe.

"Done. You are our new star," Sam Singer promised her and silently congratulated himself for not giving her only a one-season contract. This dancer was good enough for the really famous opera houses, she was way above what vaudeville show dancers could do.

He then turned to Erik who had already begun tuning the little upright piano in the orchestra pit. "You can play very well," he said, "But I didn't hire you to stay hidden in the orchestra pit - can you try another instrument?"

Erik decided to try the violin he found there, much to the violinists dismay. All instruments belonged to Mr. Singer, like everything else in the variety theater. Erik tuned the instrument and winced. This was not a high-quality violin like he was used to. This was just some cheap violin for average hobby-musicians. It would have to do for now. He played something he considered easy, not trusting his hands after weeks of hard labor on the ship - neither his ears nor his fingers.

"Wow. Really - wow," Sam Singer replied, "That was... great. Really. You could be a concert violinist if you weren't a freak. Well, one man's sorrow is another man's joy. Let me think. Vincent! I guess we pair the two of you up. He plays something and you paint with your feet. The audience will love this act!"

* * *

In the weeks that followed a horrible routine set in. Meg easily found her place among the dancers. She was the only real ballerina there, everyone loved and envied her and since she was always willing to help others instead of mocking them she soon was treated like a princess among the normal looking employees of the variety. She learned some English and finally found being a dancer in a variety wasn't the worst that could happen to her. She didn't know then just how long her contract would bind her and thought that once she spoke English a bit better she could go to the opera houses in New York and audition for the ballet there. It was a lapse in her career as ballerina, but she didn't consider it too bad. She only disliked the flimsy costumes and dancing almost naked at the "men's only" shows. She refused to dance really naked or even show her naked breasts like other dancers had to do and with her being the star Sam Singer accepted her 'prudery'. A prude blonde angel was to attract even more men than the naked girls. Sometimes not showing everything only makes it more interesting.

Mr. Singer was not a cruel man. He was the manager of his own vaudeville theater, he knew what kind of show he had to give the audience to draw them in. There were enough vaudeville shows featuring dancers, magicians, musicians and so on - but he had the oddest freaks from all over the world. Of course his show was not just a freakshow like many others, his freaks wouldn't sit there doing nothing, they had to show their talents. But then he provided for his employees food and shelter and clothing. The normal looking employees sometimes envied the freaks for the normal ones got only seasons contracts - at the end of the season, when the winter came and Coney Island was almost closed down, they would have to find new jobs. The freaks who had long-term contracts binding them almost for the rest of their lives didn't have to worry about starving or freezing in the winter, they could stay and were kept well-fed and warm.

To Antoinette Giry it was not easy to adjust to her new job. She was not used to the hard work at the laundry and she hated to have to see her daughter dancing barely dressed each night. She found it so very demeaning, but she knew she couldn't do anything about it right now. Her only hope was that they would find some less humiliating employment soon - but without speaking English she wouldn't be able to even ask for a job, so learning the language became her first priority. Unfortunately the English she learned from the other two workers in the laundry left much to be desired, but it was rather easy to learn.

Erik didn't speak much. He had hoped to be able to run away for good soon, but after all he had been through his immune system was weakened and he got an infection. He couldn't run with high fewer, he had no choice but to stay. He wasn't allowed to stay in bed, he had to be on the stage and do his job, but this way he was able to survive somehow. He withdrew so deep into himself, he sometimes felt he was just watching a plot in an opera unfold before him and he was not part of the performance. This was his only chance to survive the regular humiliation of having to stand on the stage, playing a violin with his face bared for everyone to stare at. The late night shows were worse for he had to take off his shirt as well and was only allowed to wear very tight-fitting trousers. He hated these trousers, they were much too short and tight, they just covered his private parts. Erik couldn't bring himself to appear on stage, not even with his brain clouded by fever, but he had to - or he would be sold to someone running the pit fights, in his weakened state he wouldn't survive that. Unfortunately he turned to the only "medicine" he could get against the painful shame he felt whenever he had to face an audience - wine. Wine was available in the variety's canteen and Erik soon learned that after a few glasses of wine his ability to feel shame was low enough to perform. What else could he do? Trying to run with fever that would require bed-rest, not that he would get enough of that right now?

But Erik watched in fascination as Vincent painted his pictures with his feet on stage while he was playing the violin. They were the artistic duo of the troupe and got along very well. The Foot-Artist and the Half-Gargoyle were their stage names.

To his great surprise Erik got along well with all of the freaks. Of course he soon learned that everyone of them was plagued by his or her own demons, constantly battling with their past - but never ever giving away anything about their lives before they came to Coney Island. It was a taboo. Erik observed how the others dealt with the regular humiliation of being a freak.

Vincent was a really good artist and saw himself as just an artist who allowed people to watch him painting. His pictures were sold in the little shop next to the theater. Squelch and Attamamma were just to show off their strength, even challenging men form the audience to try beating them in arm wrestling. It was a rather boring act - two people lifting various weights is boring after seeing the same three to five times a day. Tilly Three Legs had her dancing show and was paired up with the normal ballet to show her difference in dancing. She was certainly no dancer, she had three left feet, but having three legs made up for everything.

Fat Suzie and Benny the Bread-Man were on the stage together, doing some sort of rather vulgar comedy that was changed regularly so it always included the newest political news. Benny and Suzie spend many hours reading all newspapers they could get for just a few minutes on stage being gawked at and even delivering the jokes, making fun of their physical condition.

Giant Joe and Dwarf Woman were something else altogether. The tiny Irene was a well-trained aerialist and the fun of their number came from the fact that when she was on her vertical rope she was looking him straight in the face. Erik soon found he liked their number for it was nothing that would degrade them - they were just two circus artists.

As soon as Erik recovered from his illness, Mr. Singer found out what Erik could do and suddenly Erik found himself not only on stage when he had his own act with Vincent but in the orchestra pit at the piano he had tuned and was constantly improving. Erik had to be there all the time, every show, which was demanding, not to his skills as musician but to his nerves. He didn't like the acts, didn't like the music and certainly disliked everything about the variety. But he loved the piano and in his spare time he often played what he called real music. The staff soon called that piano "Erik's lover" for he spend almost every free minute of the day with the piano, while the "norms" - the freaks called the normal looking people "norms" in the same manner as the normal men and women called them "freaks" - enjoyed the pleasant sides of Coney Island, visiting other shows or going to the beach.

The freaks were not allowed to leave the theater unless absolutely necessary for no one would pay to see them if they were just strolling around each day. While Meg learned swimming her mother was ironing the costumes and Erik was busy improving the piano or playing his music.

There was another way of earning money, one that was neither legal nor morally acceptable. Like in every other vaudeville show in the world patrons could invite the crew members to a private dinner in a hotel. Usually these private calls ended up in a hotel room. Some of the dancers seldom spend the night in their bed in the dormitory. Mr. Singer would get some money for successfully delivering the message, but he never forced anyone to accept. He was running a show, not a brothel, so it was up to his employees if they accepted the private invitation or not. Much to Erik's surprise the freaks got even more invitations than the normal actors and would earn at east trice as much a night. Some - like Tilly Three Legs and Suzie - regularly accepted invitations, others were much more picky and only accepted when the man was good looking, well mannered and they actually liked him. Erik never accepted any invitation, he was horrified when he was told that there was a private call for him. Meg got three or four calls each evening, but her mother took care that not one would ever be accepted.

* * *

It was one early morning when Meg went to the beach to swim. She could only swim in the morning for she had to be fit for the shows that began in early afternoon and often ended close to midnight. When she came to her favorite place at the beach she saw a man sitting on the wooden pier, is legs dangling over the water. The pier was almost four meters over the surface of the sea now.

"Erik?" she asked curiously. What was he doing there?

Erik turned round. He wore the nice silk mask the He-She had made for him and lovingly decorated with perfect embroidery. He wore his everyday clothing, a dark blue suit. When she came closer she was that his eyes were reddened and he couldn't stop his tears, he didn't even try to.

"Since when are you sitting here?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No."

"May I sit with you?"

"Since this is a public beach I can't forbid it, can I?" Erik snapped. He didn't want any company.

Meg sat down at his side, admiring the beautiful sunrise and the many colors the ocean reflected. "Wow. I understand why you are here - this is really beautiful," she said.

"She is over there - an ocean is between us. An ocean! And it is not enough, it still tears my heart apart to think of her - but I cannot forget..." He was talking more to himself than to her, but Meg knew what this was about. He was lovesick, that was to be expected. Now that he was not constantly fighting for survival he had time to think and the sadness re-emerged.

"May I ask you a question?" Meg began. She knew that it was never a good idea to ask Erik something directly, better warn him a question was coming.

"No," he groaned, he just wanted to be left in peace.

Meg ignored his 'no'. "Why do you accept the way you are treated? In Paris you took over the Opera, bossing everyone around. Now I see you enslaved and you meekly obey every order, no matter how humiliating it might be. Why don't you stand up and do something about it? You of all people should know how to fight back when treated unfairly!"

Erik smiled bitterly. "O Meg. Sometimes you are so naive. I can't start changing things as long as I do not understand how they are. Do you understand that?"

Meg nodded. It seemed to be logical. "But you will change it, right? I will not spend the rest of my life dancing half-naked for some wolfish men for the rest of my life? Mother will not have to work in the laundry for the rest of her life?"

"I'm no magician, Meg. I can't just snap my fingers and turn this damnable variety into a respectable opera house."

"Why not?" Meg asked, "You are the Phantom. You can do whatever you like."

Erik barked a laugh that was half a sob. "You have no idea what you are speaking of."

"So you just give up? You allow them to turn you into nothing than a circus freak?" Meg snapped venomously.

Erik raised his hand to slap her in a flash of anger, Meg ducked and lifted her hands to protect herself, but the slap never came. His hand sank back to his lap slowly. "No. You are right, Meg. I let them do this to me in my apathy. It is time to get up from my knees and fight back. Are you with me in this, Meg?"

"Of course!" Meg exclaimed overjoyed. To her this was the best adventure she could ever dream of.

They sat there for a while, then Erik got up, brushed off the dust from his suit and held out his hand to help Meg to her feet. "Thank you," he said, "Thank you for reminding me of who I am."

Meg didn't know what to say to this praise. She turned and began walking back to the vaudeville theater. "It is a nice place to be, this beach with the pier," she said lightly.

"It is," Erik answered, then suddenly asked: "May I ask you something for a change?"

"Of course! Ask right away!" Meg was happy that he wanted to ask her something. She didn't know why but somehow she had come to like Erik in a way she didn't understand herself.

"If love were a flower, what would it be?" he asked grinning.

"A rose," Meg answered, "Everyone says it would be a rose. Beautiful, but it has thorns."

"Is this your opinion or do you just quote some romantic literature?" Erik asked amused.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Thank you for reading. Please review!_

 _I won't be able to write three chapters next week, maybe there won't be an update next week, but at beginning of October I will upload the new chapters._


	9. Erik's First Performance

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Erik's First Performance (extended scene)**

 _Shadowcrest Nightingale suggested that she would have loved to read the full version of Erik's first performance in the variety as if she was looking over his shoulder. She even provided me with a full-length chapter describing the first show and did such a great job that I want to share it with all of you. So this is an extra-chapter and mostly written by Shadowcrest Nightingale, I just did some minor changes to fit in the storyline for future chapters._

 _I hope you enjoy this as much as I did! :-)_

 _I'm absolutely thrilled about getting fanfiction for my story (if it is allowed to call this great writing fanfiction)! WOW! Thank you very much, Shadowcrest Nightingale!_

* * *

Sam Singer burst into the dormitory. His eyes searched the shadows until they found his intended target. He stormed to Erik's bed and ripped back the covers. "What the hell do you think you are doing? Vincent has everything ready to go down by the stage, you two are on in fifteen minutes. I've been down there waiting for you. And here you are still in bed? Get up!"

Erik groped for the thin blanket, but his fingers found nothing. Sweat dripped off his disfigured brow as he half opened his eyes. "Please … I … " His voice came out rhaspy and every word hurt his throat even more.

"I don't care. If it weren't for me, your ugly ass would've been sent back to whatever country you came from. Now you think you can stiff me on your first public performance by feigning illness? Oh no, Mister Half-Gargolye. I will not tolerate this. Nor will the other freaks. You earn your keep just like the rest of them do. Now, get up!" Singer grabbed Erik be the wrist and dragged him from the bed.

Only half on his feet, Erik tried to find his balance as the room spun. He reached back for the bed, but Singer moved behind him and shoved roughly toward the door. Air expelled from Erik's lungs as he collided with the splintered door frame.

"Not just a musician, but apparently you think you're an actor too," Singer snorted. "You can change into your stage cloths downstairs. The violin is already tuned, thank heavens, you're hardly going to make it."

'I won't make it all,',. Erik thought to himself as he stumbled down the steps. The constant pressure between his shoulder blades warned him there was no going back. Ill or not, he would be forced to perform. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could lie back down and the room might stop spinning. As least he could close his eyes.

'Get this over with,' he told himself. For a moment he staggered to a halt on the steps. The lights would soon be on him. The crowd garishly staring at his bare face. Their eyes filled with mixed disgust, terror, amusement. He would hear their voices wailing, screaming, crying out abuses. His heart hammered against his ribs. The sweat on his brow grew cold despite the fever. His feet refused to shift even a single step.

Singer jabbed him in the back with an elbow. "Move it, freak! Shit, you truly are like a gargoyle."

Forced into the wing he heard the audience cackling at the act on the stage. In the shadows Vincent twitched in anticipation as he glanced back at Singer and Erik.

"Dragged your feet too damn long," growled Singer. He tugged at Erik's wrinkled shirt. "All you'll have time for is to put on your jacket. Be late like this again and I swear I will find some ungodly duty to saddle you with. Should have known not to take on a lazy corpse like you. Do you even know how much you already cost me?"

Erik's glazed eyes stared at the slice of light through the gap by the stage. His mouth was bone dry and he felt his stomach turn - but it was empty, so he wouldn't retch. "I can't … I can't do this!" He tried to retreat.

Singer held onto his wrist and stared him in the eyes. "You better! You remember our deal? That little tart might be a great dancer, but there is another type of dance that would bring in much more money - especially if she has to work off your debt as well!"

Shivers ran down Erik's spine. No, not Meg. Not like that. No one should be forced into prostitution, especially not a well-protected innocent girl like the young blonde Meg. He closed his eyes and remembered how she danced on the stage in practice. Surrounded by the untrained mass of dancers employed at the vaudeville she shimmered like a diamond among coal. There was still potential for her if she could catch the eye of someone in the more reputable theatres. If she could escape the clutches of this vile man. And it was his fault, he knew that, even if he wouldn't admit it before anyone.

"Five minutes." Singer smacked his shoulder and walked to the slice of light in the wings.

Erik glanced around behind the stage, searching the tables for something. Some kind of relief from the welling panic inside his chest. They would hear it. The audience would hear the trembling in his arm as he played. If this must be, he had to buffer the anxiety somehow. He was shaking so hard, be it from fever or the panic that had seized him, he could barely stand on his feet.

"Hey," the sympathetic voice of Fat Suzie said beside him, "Stage fright is bad, isn't it? Here, this will help." She handed him a bottle of wine and he took it greatfully. His throat was sore and hurt badly, a drink would surely help. The cheap wine stung his dry throat. The aftertaste was nauseating. But after a few breaths the alcohol in his empty stomach spread like a balm through his limbs. The trembling ceased. His heart rate slowed. Adding to the fever's blur, the wine's filtering lens dulled the sensations around him.

He took up the violin in his hands and plucked the strings with a smirk. This is tuned? Hah! Making short work of it, he gave the pegs the gentle turns until the violin gave him a proper chord - as proper as a cheap instrument like that one could anyways.

The timing could not have been tighter. Singer grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him beside Vincent. The artist watched as Singer strode onto the stage and called out.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! We have a new duo tonight, like nothing ever seen, nor heard, on these shores. But that is what I specialize in, is it not? This new entertainment was discovered on one of the boats from Europe. He is something to be seen. Ladies with weak hearts and innocent children, I warn you to leave now! For as beautiful as the music from the violin he plays is how twisted his flesh is on his bones."

Erik clutched the violin's neck, the tendons on his left hand stood out even in the dim light. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the wine in his stomach - he couldn't be sick before an audience!

Vincent shook his head. "Easy. He has to stir them up like that. It helps work up the crowd."

"It's debasing!"

"Get used to it." He narrowed his eyes. "You feeling alright? You look paler than usual."

"Does it matter?" Erik grumbled. "Let's get this fracas over with."

On the stage, Singer held open his arms and announced, "May I present to you, the Foot-Artist accompanied by the Half-Gargoyle!"

Vincent proceeded without a pause. The regulars knew him, and the reaction as he took his place at the easel was amiable. In the wings Erik hesitated, beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. Singer's hand gestured toward him. Someone pushed him from behind, Erik did not even care to look who might have shoved him. Like a marionette on his strings, Erik awkwardly broke from the shadows.

The lights flooded his vision as they followed him across the creaky wood stage. He kept his eyes locked on the seams between the boards. If he didn't look up, he could pretend he was alone.

Gasps filled the silence, destroying his tactic. The audience was there. He glimpsed up and their vacant stares filled his vision. The crowd floated in the garish clash of colors, more circus than respectable theatre.

The sooner he played, the sooner this would be over.

He placed the bow to the strings and glanced down at Vincent. Already the painter had begun to set a landscape on his blank canvas. Reds and oranges, the hues of autumn. Erik swiftly called up the measures of Vivaldi's third movement in the Four Seasons, L'auttuno. The accompaniment moved perfectly with Vincent's masterful strokes. Color by color, applied by his nimble toes, the paint danced on the canvas. Glorious trees shrouded in their bright autumn robes graced the banks of a rippling stream. The reflection in the surface was flawless. Erik lost himself in the lulls and swells of the three movements, his nerves dulled by the wine he lingered in the balm of the music. He swayed, a drunkard to the music. By the time he reached the final measure, Vincent finished signing the piece in preparation for its sale in the nearby shop. He deposited the brush in a jar with a satisfied grin.

The crowd erupted into applause. Erik nearly dropped the bow. He remembered he wasn't alone. Instantly he dashed his gaze to the ground. As much as he could, he hid his face in the folds of his gaudy jacket. Purple, a terrible choice against his yellowed complexion. But, it was over.

Sam Singer swept onto the stage. "Wasn't that astonishing? The staff are bringing around jars for you to show your appreciation. Remember, the more you pay, the more often they perform! Nice and generous like folks! The money keeps these freaks for your amusement!"

He turned and took Erik's arm, whispering, "Oh you are a gold mine! Tonight we'll see if you can't rack in twice as much!"

"Tonight?" Erik blinked as they entered the wing. Once more the world was spinning, he longed to dash up the stairs for the refuge of his bed.

"Of course, tonight." Singer grinned and rubbed his fingers together. "This is the tame kiddie show. Nighttime is when the serious money is made. Make sure you are on time to get into costume tonight." He yanked on Erik's collar enough to bend him double. "Or else you will go on without a stitch - which would bring in at least trice as much. Am I understood?"

Erik swallowed. He stumbled blindly up the stairs to the dormitory and collapsed onto his bed. The old wooden boards of the bed groaned at the impact.

Once was hard enough. But twice? Twice in one day! The room reeled as the fever dragged him down into darkness.


	10. First Glimmer of Hope

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **First Glimmer of Hope**

When they came back to the vaudeville theater they were too late for the breakfast. Breakfast was late for everyone stayed up late and they needed sleep. Mr. Singer was furious and Meg almost laughed as he scolded Erik for disobeying and breaking the contract that didn't allow him to let himself be seen. She didn't understand enough English to know what exactly he said, but she understood that it was harsh and Erik would get some punishment. Erik defended himself that he was properly covered and certainly no one had seen his face.

"If you have so much time and strength to spare you can do something useful - like helping the cleaning team. We are short of hands as always," Mr. Singer ordered.

Erik nodded, accepting that he couldn't do anything about it right now. But in his mind a plan began to form.

When he was busy cleaning the toilets for the audience Madame Giry came to speak with him. They kept in contact secretly, avoiding to show that they were close for they knew neither the normal people nor the freaks would tolerate one of them fraternizing with a member of the other group.

"Why don't we just run away?" Antoinette asked, "I started reading to learn English and what they say about the west..."

Erik was busy cleaning a sink as he answered: "Wild West? That is just a romantic fantasy. The Wild West does not exist in the way it is romanised in cheap books. Civilization reached all of this country and living as a cowboy or farmer is nothing I can imagine. You know the strongmen Squelch? He was a cowboy but fled from the hardships to become a freak in a freakshow for that is easier. I asked him about being a farmer or a cowboy or a trapper for he has been exactly that. Believe me, we wouldn't survive that, even I am not that strong and I certainly do not have even the basic know-how of living like that."

"I guess you are right," Antoinette replied, "But this is no life for Meg. I constantly have to fight off 'private calls' - they take her for a whore! She needs some more respectable surroundings."

"You think this is easy for me? If I had a choice I'd rather clean toilets all day long instead of parading my ugliness before gawking louts with their pockets full of money," Erik snapped angrily.

"Why can't we just start looking for other jobs?" Antoinette asked.

Erik wearily informed her of the contracts they had signed: Mr. Singer had lend them the money to bribe the officials to get the papers. They were bound to work for him until the money was paid back with interest. But with their meager wages, minus the cost for food and a bed in the dormitory, they would never be able to pay more than just the interest. It was nothing than legalized slavery. The second problem was that Erik had learned how many cities and countries outlawed being ugly. He wouldn't be allowed to let himself be seen there. As he understood it, he wouldn't be allowed to exist there. New York was one of the cities that didn't call being ugly a crime punishable by law. And Mr. Singer had their papers - without papers they would soon be arrested. And the papers were neither in his office nor in his pent-house on the roof of the theater, Erik had already checked that.

Antoinette had to lean against the wall as she suddenly felt lightheaded. They were trapped.

"Our only chance is to buy ourselves free from slavery," she said.

"Maybe there is another way," Erik replied, "Are you with me in this?"

* * *

It began rather harmlessly. Small little accidents happened during some shows and the misfortunes seemed to happen especially to those who treated the freaks with most disregard. At first no one noticed for the accidents were nothing that hadn't happened before, but after some time there was a certain rumor that someone was sabotaging the shows. Everyone began to suspect the others, but no one suspected Erik to be the one behind all these little misfortunes. He was in the orchestra pit at the piano all the time for every actor to see and if he was not there he was on stage himself, playing the violin that had somehow transformed itself into a far better instrument. Erik had simply stolen a violin form another theater. How would he ever be able to sabotage anything if he was in everyone's sight?

And then it became November and the season ended. Almost every business in Coney Island was closed down except one large hotel with its restaurants and bars. That hotel was a luxury hotel but had the bad reputation that many guests would only come there to meet their lovers. Well, love was always in season and not impossible because of the winter like the beaches, sailing clubs and fun-rides. With all the others closed down, the vaudeville theaters too were closed down.

Sam Singer's Spectacular Show was closed down for winter and almost every normal looking member of the staff was out of employment - and out of the dormitory. They would either find a job elsewhere or had saved enough money to survive the winter and come back in February when the rehearsals for the new show would begin. In winter the only ones that stayed were Mr. Singer himself and the freaks. With Vincent as designer and the He-She as costume maker - not to forget the other freaks who mostly could do some work - Mr. Singer didn't need any other workers. The freaks were the cheapest ones, they couldn't leave and couldn't demand any payment other than being given food and a bed for the night for their contracts were calculated in a way that their debt would only ever increase, whenever they asked for something he could quite legally turn them down and threaten to sue them or even have send them to debtor's prison.

The very first day they were alone in the theater building they moved into the room that usually served as kitchen and canteen. It was the easiest room to keep warm and they didn't get any coals or firewood to heat other rooms. But then there wasn't much difference between living in the canteen or in the dormitory.

Only this year there was a difference. Antoinette and Meg Giry suddenly found themselves alone among the weird and scary freaks who were not at all happy having two norms among them now. Erik explained that these two were 'with him' and trustworthy, but now he had to defend himself from being called 'traitor'. They had a hard standing and only Joe's calm and gentle authority prevented an escalation.

It was a shock for Meg and her mother that the freaks were living together in one room and found nothing wrong with men and women sharing a room, even Erik had gotten used to this so much he didn't even think about it twice. Of course they insisted that Meg and Antoinette were not allowed in the room when anyone would want to undress and they had to use their own bathroom - where there was no warm water. The freaks had at least once a week warm water to wash.

Living together in such narrow space with little privacy was a trial for all of them and there were constantly fights - verbally and physically. To the Giry's great surprise no one ever hit anyone who wasn't able to fight back. No one hit Benny the Bread-Man, no matter how snide or rude his remarks were, no one hit Fleck or Vincent. Erik was the one with the quickest temper and the one who was most likely to lose it and yell or even attack someone. Usually it was Attamamma or Squelch who just grabbed his wrists and held him back until he had calmed down enough that he would not hurt anyone. Fortunately for everyone strongman Squelch was a very good-natured man who was not easily angered for no one would be able to hold him back.

When Mr. Singer came for the first time to bring them supplies and discuss what he wanted for the shows the next season, Erik asked if he could talk to him in private. Mr. Singer agreed, he knew Erik was a formidable musician and if he had an idea for the show he would certainly not refuse.

* * *

They sat in Mr. Singer's office which was cold despite the fire they had build in the stove. The room had not been heated in weeks so the little stove couldn't do much. Erik shivered with cold and hugged himself, trying to get warm. He didn't have proper clothing for such cold weather. There was ice inside the window covering the windowsill.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"I have an offer for you," Erik began carefully and watched Mr. Singer lighting a cigar. "Would you like to increase your profit at least twofold?"

"Of course! Who wouldn't?" Mr. Singer laughed, "Where is the catch?"

Erik took a deep breath. He didn't have an ace in his sleeve, he had just one chance now. "Let me create the shows for the next season and your profit will increase even more."

"Mr. Y, that sounds too good to be true. What do you want in return? And don't even ask about terminating your contract. You are too valuable, you replaced the pianist, two men of the repair crew and are an additional actor."

Erik wasn't sure if this was good but he appreciated the other man's honesty. "No. I'm offering you to let me replace even more people. I would do everything, write the scripts, compose the music, design and build the props - with some help of the others, of course. But I want something in return - I will only do this if I become your partner."

"Partner?" Mr. Singer laughed out loudly, "You want to become a businessman?"

Erik clenched his fists. "Why not? Because I do not look like one?" This was a delicate matter. He fought hard to keep his temper in check for he knew any outburst would only convince Mr. Singer in his opinion that freaks were not fit to be businessmen. If he wanted Singer to accept him, he would have to behave like a businessman.

Mr. Singer thought about this for some time. "There wouldn't be any profit at all for me. Given you really are able to increase the profit twofold, if I have to share it with you I gain nothing."

"True," Erik had to admit, "But if I get less then 50%? If I am contend with, let's say 30%, it would be like this: This year you had 100. Next year you are going to make 200 and give me only 60 so you have 140."

"And if you don't make it? What would I get then?"

"Just give me the chance. If I do not make it, I'll give the shares back and you own the company alone again," Erik replied. He knew he had nothing to offer in return, if he had, he would simply have offered to buy some shares.

Mr. Singer thought about this. "We do it this way - I'll tell my lawyers to write a contract that you get 30% of the shares if you really manage to increase profit twofold compared to the last season. But I have to warn you that it was a good season."

"Fair enough," Erik decided. What else could he do? This was the first step to buying his freedom back - by taking over the company which owned him at least partly.

"I want you to sign a contract that you will continue to work for this company for at least another 20 years," Sam Singer demanded, "I wouldn't want to lose you to another theater."

Erik's face fell. 20 years? With his share of the profit he would have been able to buy himself free within three or four years. "But that is too long," Erik replied, his voice almost shrill.

"Why not? If you really make my business so very successful, why would you ever want to leave?"

Mr. Sam Singer certainly had a point, considering only the profit and not any personal feelings.

* * *

The first change Erik announced was that he did no longer want the show to be like a circus show with one act after the other and a comedian telling jokes while the stage was prepared for the next act. He wanted it to be more like a twisted form of miniature opera. Of course Erik knew he wouldn't be able to make art music, art music was something for the intelligent people and those wouldn't seek cheap entertainment in Coney Island, they would go to the large opera houses or concert halls. But if he was to do nothing but worthless trash he would make the best trash the world had ever seen and heard.

Within a few days Erik had put together his team. He himself provided the music, but he couldn't write lyrics or text for his English still left too much to be desired. He would point out what he needed and it was Benny who turned out to be a really good librettist - only that he couldn't write. Suzie had to act as his secretary. The costumes would be designed by the He-She who was doing a really good job. Vincent would design the stage decoration. Antoinette Giry would be in charge of the dancing.

The plot for the first show was a fairy tale of sorts: six beautiful dancing girls would encounter different creatures - all played by some of the freaks - and mock them. But then they would encounter a dark magician who would capture and kill them in six different ways. Only because it should be a fairy tale the kind-hearted freaks would seek out the magician and beg him to undo the punishment and he would review the girls. There were three versions of this show, one for the families, one for adults only and one only for men. The show for the families would be rich colored costumes and everything sugarcoated, a real fairy tale. The show for the adults would be a bit darker, the fake killing not done quickly but with much suspense, the magic tricks were the same, they would only be enacted differently and so of course choreography and music would be different. The men's only show would be dark, frightening and erotic to a degree Mr. Singer was afraid it might be forbidden by the authorities.

It was hard work for all of them, especially Erik, who was the one man behind everything - like he was used to and usually liked. Only that he disliked what he was doing. He liked the show he created for children and families for he thought this would have some educational effect on children, showing them that mistreating others because of the way they looked was bad, but he actually hated the other two versions of the show. He knew he had to do it, for they would bring in much more money than the children's version, but he couldn't bring himself to work on them unless he got some whiskey first. Of course Sam Singer didn't provide alcohol - except some wine now and then - for his employees, but Erik used every opportunity to pick pockets and steal, even plunder the hotel's kitchen at night.

Antoinette was worried because she saw him drinking before he could bring himself to write the music or work on these shows, certainly not a good sign, but whenever she asked him not to drink he would explain than it hurt his brain to do such shameful trash he needed to get drunk to dull the agony. Of course Erik was not drunk, he never had more than a few glasses, just enough to dull his sense of shame but certainly not enough to diminish his ability to think too much.

There was only one day without hard work for them. Christmas. Or Chanukka for the Jews, which is always around the same time as Christmas.

Antoinette and Meg had seen the way the so called freaks lived together and helped each other. They couldn't understand that, but everyone, including Erik, followed the rule that they would help each other whenever necessary. If Erik had to carry Benny to the restroom and help him clean up afterwards, he did so. When someone of the less fortunate freaks needed help getting dressed or whatever, he would help them without ever showing anything but politeness. There was something neither Meg nor her mother had ever experienced in normal people - the unconditional will to help each other. It was something neither one had ever associated with Erik, but he as one of those who was healthy and able to do every kind of work and seemed to be really grateful that he was able to giving help instead of depending on it.

For Christmas Mr. Singer had given his employees everything they would need for a real feast - he knew that they were already working much harder than they ever had before. It was as if this new one with the absolutely odd name "Y" would inspire them to do their very best when in the past they had only done what was absolutely not avoidable. Sam Singer was businessman enough to know a good idea when he saw one so he just let Erik do whatever he wanted to do. He though the idea of creating an unique mix of music, ballet and magic show ingenious, this was something new, something no one else had, and he would be able to raise the ticket prices as well as the prices for food and drinks during the shows.

At Christmas Eve Meg and her mother were sitting at their own table, sadly discussing that now they were the oddities and outcasts, as Erik approached them. "I have something for you," he said with a grin and placed two small parcels on the table.

They opened it and found the jewelry they had thought they had lost in the perils escaping from France. Obviously Erik had taken them and somehow managed to save them along with his ring he now wore on his hand. "Merry Christmas," he said.

"Isn't that a bit... weird? You present us with our own things?" Antoinette asked.

"O my, you are right," Erik exclaimed mockingly, "I might be a bit confused." Moving his arms he produced two envelopes seemingly out of thin air and handed them to both women. He just gave them a little bit of money. It was obvious that he had stolen this somewhere, but it was the first dollars they ever got and it meant much more than just the small sum it was. It was the first step towards freedom - being able to purchase something and not just wait and accept whatever they would be given. To make their own decisions, no matter how small they were.

"Erik!" Meg exclaimed as he turned away. She held out something for him. It was a pair of woolen socks she had knitted and they would be much too large on him, Erik thought they might even be too large on Joe.

"Initially I wanted to make them for mother," Meg explained, "But now I want you to have them."

"Thank you," Erik accepted the gift with a graceful bow, "I guess I'll never get cold feet now."

* * *

February came and with it the preparations for the new season. Erik insisted on better musicians for the variety's orchestra, but really good musicians would never want to work in a vaudeville theater in Coney Island, the good ones were in New York working for respectable houses.

Erik came up with an audacious idea: They should invite women in the orchestra. This earned much laughter at first, but Erik's argument that no respectable orchestra would ever accept women among their ranks even when they were good left many female musicians unemployed. If they could get some of them they would get higher quality at a much cheaper price for a woman only earned one third to maximum half the wage a man would demand. That was true, but there was a reason for not hiring women: they could get pregnant and be forced to stop working.

"Ah, and our dancers can't?" Erik snapped back at Sam Singer when they discussed the idea, "With all the 'private calls' it is a miracle we do not have to open a maternity clinic! Why aren't you worried about the dancers?"

"Dancers are easier to replace."

"No, they aren't. Not the dancers we are needing for the season to come!" Erik insisted.

"It is still my variety!" Sam snapped annoyed, "You have not proven anything until now."

Erik clenched his fists and ground his teeth.

"By the way - you won't find your papers in my office or in my flat. Yes, that's right, I know you were breaking in searching for them. Forget it, they are in a bank vault. Have fun finding out which bank it might be," Mr. Singer studied some papers on his desk.

Erik took a deep breath to calm himself. "I just want good musicians and I do not care about their sex, their nationality or the color of their skin," he hissed, "I already know a trumpet player. He's black. Costs only 30% a white man would demand and he's really good."

"And where shall I put them? I can't lock them in the closet, I can't let them live in the dormitories!" Mr. Singer replied.

"Pay them in money and let them find a room for themselves," Erik replied smoothly.

"But that costs much more than housing them myself!"

"A-ha! You are swindling us already!" Erik argued and waived his finger before Mr. Singer's nose. Then he straightened his back. "If you have us freaks living together in one dormitory without looking at our gender, race or whatever, why can't the norms?"

* * *

Many heated arguments later Erik finally had his musicians and dancers. An orchestra with mainly women and people of inferior races - that was guaranteed to cause a scandal. Well, why not? Every scandal was a new attraction and Mr. Singer was happy. He wasn't happy with Erik's idea of never showing his face again. Erik wanted to create the image of a masked magician, it should be the mystery around the always hidden identity rather than his deformity that would attract the audience. Mr. Singer accepted this finally on the condition that Erik would have to take off the mask again if the audience wouldn't react well the the Mysterious Masked Magician.

To Erik this was the first step towards freedom again.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Hello! Thank you for waiting. Here is the next chapter, as promised!_

 _Things are looking a bit brighter now, aren't they? At least Erik is back to scheming and fighting for himself._


	11. Hard Work

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Hard Work**

Erik had always been one to learn fast and adapt easily to new situations and challenges - he had to or he would be dead by now. They were short of hands in the variety theater as always. Sam Singer didn't like paying extra for workers if others could do the job as well, so of course the freaks - who were the only regular staff there - had to sew the costumes, build the stage props and the decoration, do the cleaning and whenever one wasn't needed on stage he or she would have to help the stagehands. A theater that could exist without a regular cleaning team for the musicians and dancers and stagehands would have that duty as well as kitchen duty and whatever else.

To Erik's surprise all of the former workers refused to come back now that they had people of all races and genders in the orchestra and on stage. Why was it so difficult for a white worker to be stagehand or work at the laundry when a black man was playing the trumpet? Attamamma as strongwoman on stage was generally acceptable but a black man in the orchestra pit not? Why?

After some really hard discussions and difficulties to find the right musicians and dancers and workers they could begin with the rehearsals. It was completely different from anything Erik and the Girys had seen at the opera. The musicians were second rate at best, the dancers only half-trained and they had to rehearse eight shows within a few weeks before the season would begin. The plot for the shows Erik had created was his idea, even if the exact libretto came from Benny for Erik was not able to write acceptable lyrics in English, not even what he considered cheap drinking songs.

They had the props, they had the costumes, they had lyrics and they had the music - now it was time for Antoinette Giry to come up with a choreography that would somehow fit in to Erik's magic tricks and props and look good. The first thing Erik and Antoinette agreed about was to re-write some of the music and cut down the dancing. It was hard to adapt to such a low level of education and skill. The only musicians and dancers they got were nowhere near acceptable, but they would never get anyone with real skill working for a vaudeville theater in Coney Island. They would have to take what they got and make the best of it, they had to reduce the requirements strongly.

As soon as the rehearsals began Erik found that the main problem were not the mediocre musicians or half-trained dancers - it was him. He had thought dancing was easy and decided that he wouldn't be just standing there like a stage prop but would move with the dancers so Antoinette had more or less planned him as the male lead dancer. If this was going to be a ballet with magic tricks, Meg would be the female lead dancer and Erik as the magician - and only one who could operate the props for he guarded his secrets well - would be the male lead dancer. Only that he was no dancer.

Erik's movements were graceful and he was strong, but he had never tried being a dancer. In his imagination dancing was not something difficult because he had never tried it. Now he soon learned that the movements were not easy to learn and what looked so very playful on stage was in fact hard work. The first hour of training left him covered in sweat and breathless while the dancers only seemed to enjoy themselves, even Tilly Three Legs didn't show any fatigue.

"A short break?" Erik asked, feeling light-headed because he wasn't used to spin round that much.

"Is the show perfect?" Antoinette shot back with an icy glare, leaning on her cane. She wore a brown skirt, a blue jacket and a red blouse, looking rather ridiculous, but her glare was the same as always.

"No, it is far from tolerable," Erik admitted and sighed, "I get your point. Once more."

Not too soon after that Erik approached Antoinette again. "I'm sorry I called the dancing at the Opera a lamentable mess," he said.

"That's nice to hear. Back to the stage. The decapitation still does not work as planned," Antoinette insisted.

With a groan Erik went back to his place and shot the He-She who was happily practicing a Can-Can with two men at his side an angry glare. Why was the dancing no problem for the He-She, Tilly Three Legs and Dwarf Woman? Why could they just do their dance when he found that he lacked stamina even compared to second- or third rate dancers?

"Alright, the decapitation scene again. For those who can't count: all 8 full spins, Erik 7 and a half. You face them, move through them and then the decapitation trick and when the head comes off all of you face the audience. Are you ready?" Antoinette said in French and Giselle translated it to English. English was still a problem for Antoinette while Erik and Meg did quite well speaking now, even if their vacabulary was still lacking.

"Ready? Spin, spin, spin!" Antoinette clapped her hands to indicate when every spin should start. Erik found himself unable to actually do the trick, he was not where he should be. "Erik! Meg is over there!"

"I'm sorry. I need some water, it is really hot in here, isn't it?" he complained.

"The bottle with water is in the kitchen. You may go there when you do this right just once!"

"I'll kill you!" he groaned, "As soon as I catch my breath."

They tried again and again and soon Erik found that he was certainly not up to do this magic trick that way. He just couldn't. "I give up. We have to..."

Meg laughed at him. She really laughed, she was enjoying this immensely. The trick was easy: while normal dancers and freaks would dance together, Erik would use a sword - it wasn't a real sword, just a fake one made of wood - to cut off her head at the height of the dance. Everyone would freeze and then Erik would do the same trick "cutting off" Tilly's third leg to build a new head for Meg from it. A nice idea, only it depended on Erik's ability to move with the dancers.

He snarled at her. "Again," he decided. He wouldn't endure to be mocked by some ballet rat.

The rehearsals were merciless. Erik silently cursed every glass of wine and whiskey he had had when he wrote the music for the show for this had really weakened his stamina. That - and the fact that he had always underestimated dancing. It just looked so easy, so playful - now he felt lightheaded, sweat was running down beneath his mask, his feet burned and he fought hard to keep his stomach under control.

"I'm... sorry... I complained to the managers about... the ballet so often," Erik panted and looked at some others.

"I'm glad to hear that. Again!"

"You had your revenge, really, it is enough!" Erik refused, but right now he lacked the strength to be angry.

"Combining ballet with magic was **your** idea," Antoinette stood up to him, "Again!"

The dancers groaned. Except Meg no one of them had ever had such a demanding rehearsal under such a merciless ballet mistress.

"Good. Spin, spin spin and stop!" Antoinette commanded, then yelled: "Erik!"

He stood facing the back of the stage and not the audience. After a moment's confusion he recognized his error and turned round. "I'm sorry. Really. I should never have told the managers that the ballet dancers were lazy," he apologized again, hoping she would grant them a break.

"Again!"

They had to try it again, but this time one of the female dancers fainted and fell, causing the others to stop. Antoinette commanded: "Take her off the stage. The rest of you - again!"

"No," Erik decided, "Can't you see that this is for nothing? She fainted. Two of the dancers already had to throw up. I can barely stand. Let's have a break and then we try it again."

Meg laughed at him. "What? Mr. High-and-Mighty is tired? His feet hurt?" She piouretted around him, teasing him. Meg was tired too, but she was more used to this form of physical exercise - and right now exhilarated knowing she was able to shame the notorious Phantom. Seeing him close to breaking down while she was still able to dance correctly pushed her to a high she had never thought possible. Erik stood there, leaning with his hands on his knees, struggling to stay on his feet. He didn't even think about being angry, right now he just needed a glass of water and a chance to sit down for a few minutes. Or hours. Or maybe days, if possible.

"Again!" Antoinette demanded and smashed her cane down on the wooden boards of the floor.

"Has Giselle taught you only this one word?" Erik sighed and stretched, walking to his marked position. There were only him and Meg now, the others had given up, but they were the most important two - and Erik had to admit secretly that he was the one who made the most mistakes. He was no dancer, he had made a terrible mistake thinking dancing was easy and something people did for fun. It was physically hard work.

They tried it again, Erik concentrating hard to do it right. His pride demanded that he would not give up as long as the young girl Meg would endure the strain. His movements were far from graceful, he was more or less stumbling though the movements and he was two steps behind in the end, but the trick with the decapitation went smoothly. The false head landed where it was supposed to and the trick-costume worked perfect, concealing Meg's real head perfectly, making her look a bit taller but Erik had been sure this would go unnoticed by the audience who would be distracted by the girls to her right and left doing a can-can. Especially with Tilly Three Legs among them they were guaranteed to distract the audience, especially the male patrons.

The next thing Erik remembered was lying on the floor, Joe kneeling at his side, offering him a bottle of water. Confused Erik sat up. "I slipped..." he mumbled, not allowing himself to think he might have collapsed.

"Can you stand up?" Joe asked.

Erik nodded and pushed himself up. He managed to stumble a few steps, then he would have fallen again had he not been able to lean against the wall. He sat down, his back resting at the wall, and took the bottle gratefully. He drank slowly, knowing too much cold water would make him sick. The water helped, he felt less light-headed now. "Just give me a minute," he asked, closing his eyes, breathing deeply.

After a few minutes he looked around. Everyone who was included in this show was sitting or lying around, too exhausted to get up and go the the bathrooms. Erik didn't even want to think about the many many stairs he would have to climb.

Antoinette Giry's cane came in his view as she stood next to him with an amused smile on her face. He would have loved to slap her for that mocking smile, but that would require him to get up - which he didn't even want now. "I guess you do not look down at dancers any more," she observed, "Well done for your first attempt to dance."

"I thought dancers were just having fun all day long. I was wrong," Erik admitted, "And I truly want to apologize for the way I constantly mocked dancers. They surely weren't hopping around like calves on the field, they weren't stomping like mad cows and they certainly were not lying around like lazy hippos."

Antoinette smiled. "You might apologize all you will, it will not change my way of pushing dancers to their limit. And now that you decided to combine music, magic and dance to create a new kind of show you are one of them. Welcome to my realm."

"Sounds like the worst threat I ever heard," he groaned.

"Get up. Time for lunch and then take a nap. We have four more hours rehearsing in the afternoon!"

As Erik sluggishly got to his feet Meg passed him. She too looked as exhausted as everyone else, her hair in a disarray, sweat running down her neck, her dress drenched in sweat. "Do not take your shoes off now or you won't be able to put them on again in time for the next rehearsal," she warned him sympathetically, "In the evening you should put your feet in a bowl with cold water and tomorrow bandage them. Once the leather of your shoes is drenched with sweat and blood it will adapt to your feet and it becomes easier then. New shoes are always a problem."

If it were only the shoes...

* * *

They were not able to put up enough shows to change the whole program of the variety immediately so the upcoming season would be a weird mix between the shows Erik created and the shows Sam himself created. This would allow them easily to compare which would be more successful. They agreed changing the contract a bit: if Erik's shows would bring twice the profit Sam's shows did, he would get 30% of the shares.

Erik successfully created two different characters he would show the audience: the masked magician Mr. Y and the freak Mr. Gargoyle. Both fictional characters, both played by him to a degree that even those who knew it was him were surprised at how different he could act. Mr. Y was every bit the mysterious magician, never talking much, always guarding his secrets, a highly educated French gentleman. Mr. Gargoyle was completely different - Erik acted as if he couldn't hear or speak, only play his violin. Of course he did not play the violin acting as Mr. Y - that would have given him away. Erik went through great length to make it impossible for everyone who didn't work at the variety to guess the truth. Of course there were rumors that it could be just one man, but nobody knew for sure. In the future Erik planned to have Mr. Gargoyle 'die' and he would only be the masked magician Y.

As spring came and with it the entertainment seeking people there was no time to think much about his miserable situation. Erik was busy all day long creating new shows, show acts and performing. To Mr. Singer's surprise Erik's "Monsieur Y - the masked magician" shows were loved by the audience. Even increased ticket prizes didn't stop them from being sold out and people demanding extra shows so they could see it. Erik was relieved not to have to show his face any more. Working as masked magician wasn't something he considered humiliating and his idea not just to show the tricks but combine them with music and dance made them very popular for no one else created a show like that.

* * *

By the beginning of summer it was clear that Erik would increase the income even more than twofold, but unfortunately he hadn't considered the additional costs. A larger orchestra, the instruments, more and better dancers, more costumes and props of a very high quality - this did cost dearly even when the people who helped Erik - Vincent, Joe, Fleck, Squelch, Attamamma and the He-She - didn't cost extra.

Erik sat in Mr. Singer's office, reading the books. He tried to figure out why he had miscalculated. He had clearly underestimated the costs. That was his mistake and he would have to find a way to bring in the money. He even considered committing theft and burglary to buy unsold tickets himself, cheating with the ticket sells, but he gave up this plan as he saw that almost all shows already were sold out. Put up extra performances? This would do no good, they had up to seven performances a day, every performance being exactly one hour, and this was the limit. He knew he wouldn't be able to do more, as would the others, or they would break down, one after the other, and right now they already worked with minimum staff so if one would not be able to work, they would have to cancel at least three shows a day. He didn't even want to think about that.

Then he found something that could save money. Mr. Singer had some insurances covering various risks. The theater being close to the sea an insurance for the risk of a flood or a fire seemed the sensible thing to do, but an insurance for the risk of a volcano eruption? As far as Erik knew there was no volcano anywhere near New York. The sum for this insurance was ridiculously high as if they were living on an active volcano which would erupt at least once a year. So he confronted Mr. Singer with this.

Mr. Singer sighed and sat down behind his desk, offering Erik a chair and a cigar. Erik accepted both. In the last months he had acquired many bad habits, one of them was occasionally smoking a cigar together with Mr. Singer and drinking a glass of whiskey. He couldn't tell if he had begun taking the cigar to conceal the foul taste of the cheap brandy or if he needed the brandy to overcome the stench of the cigar. Sometimes he laughed at himself - if he didn't like it, why was he indulging in these vices? Well, it might be the effect. It calmed him down, a nice effect when he was exhausted but so overwrought in the evening that he wouldn't find any rest.

"Mr. Y, you are new here in Coney Island. You can't know this, but this insurance is the most important one. To be true, I pay a certain man owning this fake insurance company for his protection. Protection money, you understand?"

Erik understood only too well. That man was "protecting" businessmen from his own wrath, well, not so very different from what Erik himself had done in Paris only this man was doing it on a larger scale.

"The first warning is: they beat you up. Second warning: you or your wife, daughter, son or another relative is raped. Third warning: you lose a limb. If this does not cause you to yield you disappear. I have seen this happening too often, I won't risk that," Mr. Singer explained, "As long as we businessmen pay the boss keeps things running smoothly on Coney Island. We don't need courts or police, he and his men take care that the customers are save and happy. By the way - if you keep stealing at this rate and are caught they wouldn't bother with a trial. You'd lose both hands."

"How did you...?" Erik asked surprised. He had thought his nightly escapes from the variety would go unnoticed.

Mr. Singer shrugged. "Fleck told me. She is worried about you and asked me to warn you for she doesn't dare herself."

Erik couldn't decide if he should be angry or glad that actually there was someone who cared for him and was worried he might be hurt.

"It is not all that bad," Mr. Singer went on in his lecture, "The boss is in league with the authorities and politicians. He keeps them from meddling in our affairs, so in a weird way he actually is doing something for us."

"So we can't cut this... expense," Erik hissed through clenched teeth. He would lose his bet, he knew it. There was no way out of this. He felt his throat tightening and tears welling up in his eyes, fighting hard to suppress them. He wouldn't show weakness before this man who practically owned him and the other freaks - as well as the Girys, and that was Erik's fault for not translating the contracts in time or bailing for a better contract for them. Meg could be out auditioning for a respectable opera house by now if she wasn't bound by the same horrible contract as he. "You are as much a slave to be brutally beaten down like I am. It is just another man who holds your leash," he added.

Mr. Singer nodded, slowly exhaling the smoke from his cigar. "You are currently lucky to be too unimportant to catch the bosses interest. Are you sure you want 30% of the shares of my company?"

"Do I want to buy myself free at least to 30%? Is that a question from someone in the land that so idly boasts to be a land of freedom?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	12. Shame and Despair

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 _Warning: this chapter contains a mild sex scene, nothing graphic. It is okay for T rating, though. I just wanted to remind you that this story is not written for small children._

 **Shame and Despair**

It was a terribly hot summer night. Meg couldn't sleep no matter how tired she was so she decided to get up and go swimming before dawn. She liked swimming in the morning when no one else was at the beach. When the beach was full of people it wasn't that much fun.

When she arrived at her favorite spot, she saw Erik sitting at his usual position on the pier. He did that often, spending the night sitting on the wooden pier rather than in his bed. Meg wondered if he slept there too, enjoying the cool breeze from the ocean in this moist summer heat - it was surely better that the air in the dormitories.

"Good morning, Erik," she greeted friendly. She didn't know why but finding out that they both loved to watch the sunrise from that pier made him somewhat more human in her eyes.

"It is morning, but it isn't good," he replied. Only then did Meg notice the bottles of wine next to him. One was empty, he had just started on the second one. He wasn't even drinking from a glass, he was drinking from the bottle, this was highly uncommon for his usually well behavior.

"It could be a good morning," Meg disagreed, "It is up to you, if you weren't drinking all night it would be a good morning. Just look at the beautiful sunrise!"

"What do you know?" Erik choked back a sob, "Nothing is up to me. I can only drown myself."

"And since you disliked the taste of seawater you decided to drown yourself in cheap wine," Meg snidely remarked.

"It's port-wine," Erik corrected, ignoring her mockery. He moved to invite her to sit with him. Meg sat down and Erik offered her the bottle, carefully wiping the bottle with his sleeve before she took it. Meg tried a cautious sip. She loved the sweet taste of the port wine, not knowing it was much stronger than normal wine.

"Erik, my mother is worried because you drink too much," Meg warned him.

"I know. I already did cut it down, I can't do the magic tricks when I'm drunk. Right now I think it would have been easier to drink myself into oblivion each day and let them do with that accursed carcass whatever they want," he answered bitterly. Meg hadn't seen him in such a black mood before.

"Then why are you drunk now?" she asked.

Erik chuckled, but there was no reason to laugh. "I am already dead." When Meg didn't reply, he suddenly turned to face her as he went on: "Meg, you cannot imagine what happened to me. I am really dead, everything I ever was is dead. I... I can't compose any more. I tried, but - nothing. I lost my music and without music I am... just another circus freak to be gawked at." Meg looked at him carefully. She had never seen such panic in his eyes. He was terrified to death. He had been so calm when he faced deadly peril, he had never panicked, endured all trials and somehow survived - but now he looked like he was facing an unimaginable horror that made him crumble in sheer terror.

What could a girl like Meg answer to that? He turned to her for comfort, but what could she say or do now? He had always been so strong and now he fell apart.

"But... you are playing music? You composed the music for the shows and the audience loves it," Meg replied helplessly.

Erik laughed bitterly. "I do not **compose** music nowadays, Meg. I **construct** it."

Meg's confused expression told him that she didn't understand what he was talking about.

"There is a difference between composing and constructing music," he lectured, "Constructing is that I think about it, planning each single note as a means to an end. Using whatever knowledge I can get about what the norms want. Constructing music is hard work indeed, always considering the style, different sophisticated rules about harmonics and so on." Meg noticed how naturally he used the demeaning word "norms" for normal people - much like she might use the word "freaks". A twinge of anger and shame rushed through her. She hated him calling her a "norm" as if she was another, lower species. Erik didn't notice her discomfort and went on: "Composing is different. When I compose I forget everything around me - the world could burn down and I wouldn't notice. Composing is - overwhelming. There is so much music in me, I just have to get it out of myself or I would burst. I can't stop composing then, it is as if the music was writing itself, as if I was just the medium and the music was writing itself... the music was just flowing through me, my body, my soul, I was unable to stop it... Can you imagine the glorious feeling when music is flowing through your very soul, you can't even think of trying to contain it, I was part of something... divine."

He reached for the bottle and took a gulp, carefully wiping the neck of the bottle before handing it to Meg who accepted to drink too.

Tears were wetting his silk mask as he went on, gesticulating wildly with his hands: "Now there is... nothing. If I try to compose I find nothing. It is as if I reach for something in a large, empty black hole. There is nothing, no matter how desperately I try to find it. I'm scared, Meg, as I've never been in my whole life. To be cut off from music... it is a fate worse than death."

Meg's eyes were wide and she couldn't help pitying the broken man she saw before her. He had once been great - her mother and even Christine had told her about his glorious music and she knew his "Don Juan" opera - and now he was just a broken shadow of the man he once had been.

"Maybe your music can come back in time?" Meg asked, "When we leave this variety, look for employment in a respectable opera house or concert hall - surely your music will come back?"

"We can't. Mr. Singer has our papers locked away in some bank vault and without papers no one will hire us - not that I have any hope of being hired anyways. Look at me, Meg, and you can see clearly why no one in any respectable house would ever want me. I wouldn't even get the job of cleaning the toilets there."

"I would hire you," Meg answered.

Her naive but honest answer made Erik laugh. "No you wouldn't. Just look at me - what do you see?"

"A once great man brought low who wallows in self-pity instead of getting up and doing something about it."

Erik stared at her in shock as the painful truth of her words sunk in. But the painful stab in his chest was soothed by a word she had used. "A man? You see... a man in me?" he asked dumbfounded.

Meg looked at his eyes. His eyes were those of a man. They were brown, the right eye being smaller than the left one, but she suddenly saw nothing but a man there. Not the monster of her nightmares, not the fiendish beast, just... Erik. She reached out to touch his unmasked left cheek. He didn't pull back, unafraid of being unmasked for Meg had seen his horrible visage far too often. He leaned into her hand like an abused dog which receives the first caress in years.

"Not here," he whispered, "Come!"

He got up and lead her under the pier. Beneath the pier was a tiny shack made of wooden boards. Meg had never thought about that before, now she found Erik had the key to this shack. Had he just occupied it? He led her in. There was a mattress and a blanket. He left the door open so they could sit on the mattress - which took all space in that tiny shack - and watch the waves of the sea gently brushing the stones. The stones were rounded and soft, washed out by the ocean.

"You sleep here?" Meg asked nervously.

"If it is not too cold," Erik answered and sat down and gestured for her to sit with him. She did, knowing her mother wouldn't approve. But it felt so right sitting there, beneath the pier, unseen by anyone who might arrive now, and just watching the ocean, enjoying the pleasant coolness in that hot summer.

"You... are a remarkable girl, do you know that, Meg?" Erik told her, "Christine only saw the man inside the monster once - a split-second when I set her free. But you saw it right away without me even trying."

"Maybe because you never let her see?" Meg suggested. Erik was so utterly different from what Christine had told her about him. According to Christine he was a frightening chimera of a monster and a poor abused puppy. What Meg now saw before her was just a broken man who was utterly lost in this cruel world. She felt his hands on her arms. His hands were soft and warm. Normal. His hands were not only normal but nice - a pianist's hands.

"You are beautiful," he breathed, edging closer.

"Mother wouldn't approve," Meg warned him.

"She doesn't have to know," he replied, his voice husky, his breathing becoming heavier, "Or is it that you wish to leave? The door is open - go, go before the monster devours you!" Erik was slightly scared at his own sudden boldness. The wine made it difficult to think, his capacity for logic reduced he was driven by feelings and he wanted to hold her close, as close as possible and even closer, but he would never force her. He would never do anything she didn't want, he'd rather warn her and send her away in time.

"You are no monster," Meg heard her voice answer. When had she said that? What was she doing? This was exactly the situation her mother had warned her about - she shouldn't be there, she shouldn't let him touch her, she should go, but she was paralyzed. She was frightened, yes, but at the same time curious what it was her mother had warned her about - and why it felt so right to disobey her mother's strict orders.

She found out soon as he pulled her in his embrace, kissing her neck, his trembling hands roaming over her body. She could smell the wine on his breath. He was almost drunk, she shouldn't let a drunken man touch her... too late. He held her as if he never wanted to let her go. "If you want me to stop," he whispered, "Say so before it is too late." He wouldn't force her to anything. It was her decision and hers alone.

"Go on..." she replied. Why did she say yes when she could have said no, she asked herself, why? Why did she give in when she didn't even love him?

And then she felt a sharp pain where no one ever had touched her before. She yelled in pain, feeling his body wracked with spasms, and then it was over. He collapsed at her side, trying to catch his breath, sweat dripping from his head, his neck. Meg shuddered in disgust.

He rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "Thank you," he said with a smile she couldn't quite place. Meg felt numb. He gently caressed her cheek with his hand before he got up, staggering to his feet, but Meg couldn't deduct if he was swaying because he was drunk or because he was exhausted. She too got up, pulling down her skirt, a sore feeling at her core. She wasn't sure she would be able to dance that day.

He too was correcting his crumbled suit. Suddenly he noticed her blood on him. His eyes widened in shock. "O God, no... I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry, I... let me see if you are badly hurt!" his voice was thin, completely unlike his normal voice.

Meg was determined not to let him pull up her skirts again. "No. I'm fine. It is supposed to hurt the first time."

"Your first...?" he sounded shocked and frightened, "It was your first? Meg, if I had known I would never... Meg, girl, why didn't you tell me?"

Meg was on her feet in a split second. His words had lit a powder keg of fury in her and she literally exploded. "Why should I? What the hell are you taking me for, you stupid bastard? A whore, ready to spread her legs for everyone who crosses her path? Of course I was a virgin! You stupid bastard!" She clenched her hands into fists and punched his stomach. His stomach was tightly muscled and her clumsy punches however fueled by anger were not hard enough to hurt him. He retreated from her more out of shock than pain.

"I am so very sorry, Meg," he gasped helplessly, suddenly sobering up a bit, "I didn't think at all."

"That's quite obvious!" she spat.

"Please forgive me..." he stuttered helplessly spreading his arms, still retreating from her. A rather ridiculous sight, the tall man backing away from the small woman until he stood knee-deep in the water. They were still beneath the pier, shielded from the sight of whoever might come to the beach.

"O there is nothing to forgive," Meg hissed, "I always wanted my first time to be beneath a filthy pier with a disgusting, drunken bastard of a freak!"

That hurt. Her words cut deep, but he felt that he deserved the pain, what he had done to her was unforgivable. "I am really sorry," he said.

"O stop being sorry!" the girl snapped annoyed, "Do something! Do something to get all of us out of this mess!"

The wine. It was the accursed port-wine that made it absolutely impossible to come up with any acceptable reply to that. He really had to stop drinking once and for all. Only that he was not really able to think clearly, he felt as if his brain had been wrapped in some foam that blocked it from functioning. But he needed to get his bearings **now**.

His silence made her even more angry and she felt like kicking him. Kicking him seemed the decent thing to do for her now. And then another thought entered her mind. Why not? Why not kick him? She was a dancer and had strong legs and a good balance. She kicked him hard where it hurt most. He didn't scream, he couldn't, as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He doubled over in pain, sinking to his knees in the cold water of the ocean. He was on his knees on the pebbles in the water, the water now reaching up to his belt. He looked absolutely ridiculous now, kneeling in the water, unable to get up, unable to speak or do anything now, the visible part of his face almost white now. Meg didn't laugh. She spat at him, missing him, and turned around, running back to the variety.

Erik pulled himself up with some difficulty and tried to run after her, but with his shoes and trousers soaked and the pain he was in he could do nothing but stumble behind her. As he attempted to run his stomach turned and he brought up the wine he had drunken earlier.

It was late when Erik reached the theater, ashamed of himself. There were already many people in the streets, seeing him in his wet trousers they pointed at him and laughed, mocking him. He ducked his head and tried to slink back, but a very furious Mr. Singer caught him at the backdoor.

"And where have you been?" Mr. Singer inquired.

Erik didn't say anything. He was trembling with cold and the hangover that sat in just that moment, trying not to retch now.

"If you think you are spared today, think again! You are not allowed to go out unless absolutely necessary! This won't go without punishment, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Erik replied, "Please..." He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, "I... ugh..." He put a hand over his mouth, trying to keep it down. Mr. Singer waved a hand, indicating that he was dismissed, but would face the consequences later.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Poor Meg. This is certainly not what she had hoped for. Erik and Meg are both convinced that they do not love each other, but is it possible they misinterpret their own feelings?_

 _Have a nice weekend, next chapter will be up Monday! :-)_


	13. Redemption

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Redemption**

Meg was far too ashamed to tell anyone about what had happened at the pier. Her mother suspected that something was wrong, but she thought Erik had just made some cruel remarks - she knew his snide comments - which had hurt her daughter. Antoinette knew that Erik would never stoop so low as to force himself on a woman. She couldn't know that her daughter would ever get involved with him willingly.

But Meg demanded to leave the variety. Antoinette was fine with that, only the two of them couldn't persuade Mr. Singer to release them from their contracts or give them their papers back. "You are far too valuable to me," Mr. Singer explained, "I can't let you go."

"I can't work with him any more!" Meg complained.

Mr. Singer was adamant. He wouldn't change a sold-out show. No other girl had the suppleness to fit in Erik's clever hiding machines and the costumes were designed specially for her body and couldn't be altered. There was no alternative for her than to be the main assistant to the masked magician. And she wouldn't be able to pay back the loan anyways.

Meg stomped out furiously and Antoinette felt compelled to ask Erik what had happened between them. Erik didn't say anything, just stared at his shoes and nervously played with his cufflinks. "Erik, this can't go on! Go to Meg, talk to her, whatever you did to her, try to apologize. You owe her that much!"

Erik found himself cornered, especially because his conscience plagued him terribly. He knew he had done wrong but didn't know how to apologize, but he had to at least try. So he waited at the pier for her, hoping she would come here again despite what had happened there. He was right, she did. It was the only place where she could enjoy a few moments of peace just for herself. In the variety's dormitories were too many others, there was no privacy.

"Good morning, Meg," Erik greeted her shyly.

"Go to hell," Meg snapped, "And it is Mademoiselle Giry to you, freak!"

"Meg... Mademoiselle Giry, I am deeply sorry," Erik went on, "Please forgive me."

"You are the cause for everything that went wrong in my life!" she accused him.

"Give me a chance to set things right, please," he replied softly, knowing he had wronged her. He certainly was not in love with her, the only feeling driving him to seek forgiveness was nagging guilt.

"You can't," Meg replied bluntly, "Or can you buy our freedom back?"

"If I can, would you... forgive me?"

Meg considered this for a moment. "It would be a start."

Erik sighed. "There is a way. But it is only possible if I disgrace myself in a way I never did before." He shuddered at the mere thought of what he would have to go through, but then, what choice did he have? After what he had done to Meg she deserved that he lost his honor as he had taken hers - even if he hadn't known and certainly never intended to harm her in any way.

Meg was deeply touched. "You would do this for me?"

"If the last shard of dignity is the price I have to pay for our freedom, so be it," Erik replied sadly, "I'm not worth that so many suffer just because I cannot swallow my pride. It is in my hands and I should finally do something right, shouldn't I?"

* * *

The scheme Erik had come up with was to create a show that would cause a severe scandal and was most likely to be forbidden by the authorities - no matter what the bosses said and whom they would bribe. But that was the interesting thing in that: they could pay a lawyer to make an appeal and unless the higher court would decide the show would be running. And this - the knowledge that this show would be forbidden soon - would be enough to sell the tickets at ridiculously high prices.

That and another trick: they would only sell one third of the tickets, the other tickets would be marked as "sold" but sold at the black marked by themselves. The prices would go up from the official price in no time once the scandal was common knowledge. Why leave the profit of black market tickets to others when you can have it yourself? To assure that the scandal couldn't be missed they would give free tickets to journalists.

The show was to be called "Walpurgis Night". Erik called it "entirely constructed, nothing composed". He had done his best to anticipate the wishes of bored rich men who loved a scandal. The show was a mixture of music - certainly a bit inspired by Boito's opera "Mephistophele" as Antoinette Giry remarked when she saw the score - and magic show. That wasn't the new element to it, the new element would be that Erik had decided to show his imagination of the Walpurgis Night which was an erotic nightmare. Naked - or almost naked - dancers and freaks. The freaks would portray different lost souls coming up from hell to celebrate together with the witches, dancing at the Brocken. Erik himself would be the half-man-half-demon in the center of the show.

All in the show - including aerialist stunts high above the audience and sudden appearance tricks in the middle of the audience to make everyone part of the show - would be about half an hour, but that would be enough.

At first sight of the sketches Antoinette felt like slapping Erik in the face. How could he do that? How could he abuse his talents like that? "No! Never! I won't be part of that, neither will Meg! This is just tasteless, disgusting and humiliating and I will not allow it!"

"Unfortunately, Madame, this choice isn't yours," Erik replied coldly. Once he had convinced himself that this was the only way out of debt servitude he wouldn't let moral qualms stop him. He would sink lower than ever, but it was necessary. None of the actors would be billed, everyone would conceal himself so that every participant would be able to deny being at that show later on. Erik would be the only one to show his face and most of his body, he would wear nothing more than a sort of loincloth made from red leather. Of course hidden leather straps would hold it in place. He even agreed to heightening his disfigurement with makeup, creating an image in the right spotlights that really made people wonder if he was a half-demon. Ironically this would conceal his identity much better than wearing a mask - being always fully dressed and covered in mask and wig everyone knew him only for his masked appearance so stripping off his concealment would obscure his identity more than any mask possibly could.

"Are you sure about this?" Joe warned Erik, "You'll have to live with yourself after that. Can you really bare that disgrace, even if no one will ever know that the half-demon and the masked magician are one and the same?"

"Thanks for the warning," Erik answered warmly, "I told you that this is our ticket to freedom. I cannot back out now, I cannot leave you to your fate. We discussed this, didn't we? All of you agreed. Should anyone reconsider, he or she might leave. I won't force anyone."

"This music is... I don't know... strange," the violinist - a woman, a mulatta - said.

"It is," Erik replied darkly, "This show is made to scare the hell out of the audience and arouse them at the same time. If not at least half of the audience leaves the show in dire need of changing their underwear we did something wrong." He turned and left the office where they had discussed this new show in a hurry, a sick feeling in his stomach. He needed air.

Erik stood in the darkness beside the side-entrance of the variety, shuddering with disgust at himself and his own ideas. Just how low could he go? What had he become? It sickened him that he even had such ideas. He let the show play in his mind and cringed at the vulgarity of it. How could he - he of all people - come up with such revolting idea? Leaning against the wall he was violently sick.

* * *

The plan worked. The Walpurgis Night was the scandal of the year and immediately forbidden - of course the previously prepared appeal was made and most newspapers wrote about a disgusting and shameless show no decent man should ever see. Mr. Singer replied smoothly that of course the "Walpurgis Night" was meant to be disgusting and revolting as a warning to everyone who would give in to temptation.

The more the show was condemned as a horribly shameful display the more tickets were sold at even higher prices. When one bought a ticked he was given a cheap paper mache mask - another idea of Erik - so the patrons could go to the show incognito. This little trick served well to increase the interest in the show and even if every man denied ever having seen it, everyone had heard from a friend of a friend that it was really even more scandalous than the newspapers had reported it to be. Of course almost everyone had seen it, some men came so often that they were well known to the ticket sellers by the end of the season.

Erik grew alarmingly quiet that autumn. There were many different shows running, but Walpurgis Night once a week brought in more money than all other shows together. Erik didn't drink much that time. Some magic tricks were really dangerous and if he made a mistake someone might get hurt, he just had to be sober, but he knew he would lose it. He felt as if he was falling apart. There was him, the man who acted as the masked magician, the man who would do business and there was a part of him he loathed and despised, the part of him that would invent such horrible things like the Walpurgis Night show. The part of him that did what he deemed necessary ruthlessly, never considering the cost, not even the cost he would have to pay himself, untouched by any sense of moral. It was that part of him that would do literally everything pursuing his goals, the part of him he himself was afraid of. Erik didn't know any more what he was capable of doing, he felt like there was a stranger possessing him, controlling him from time to time and he could just sit back and watch this terrifying stranger tormenting him until the darkness left and he could be himself again. It scared him.

When he stood before a mirror one evening he suddenly saw that his image shattered, it splintered and then did melt down like a candle. He backed away trembling, not so much scared by what he really saw but by the image his mind created: He saw himself completely without a face, there was only black emptiness where in reality his masked face was.

"Erik?" Joe asked, rushing to the bathroom alarmed by Erik's scream, "What happened?"

"I'm not there," Erik whispered, pointing to the mirror that showed his reflection perfectly, "Where I should be there is only a black void." Joe grabbed him and pushed him out of the bathroom, dragging him to his bed and made him sit down.

"You didn't drink, did you?" Joe asked.

"No," Erik replied, shaking his head, "I saw my image shatter and melt away - o God, I'm falling apart. I'm no longer myself, I'm losing control... Joe, am I going mad?"

The truth would be yes, and Dr. Johann Gängelmann knew perfectly well, he was a medical doctor, but he knew too that he mustn't tell Erik now. "You are overwrought, that is all. You constantly act against yourself, this can't be healthy. It is that damned show - as much money as it brings in, if the price is your sanity it is too high, you have to stop it."

"Just this season..." Erik whispered, "Then I'm in a position to change things."

* * *

When the last show was over in autumn and Coney Island closed down for winter, Erik sat with Mr. Singer in his office.

"Tell me, am I your business partner now?" he asked.

Sam Singer grinned. "Yes, you are, and I'm not even angry. I'm proud having a partner like you - for every penny you earn two come to my pocket. I think you'll be even more dedicated to this variety in the future when you get 30% of the profit for yourself." Sam Singer could live with that perfectly. He thougt Erik would from now on work even harder for he would get directly rewarded for his work.

Erik heaved a deep breath. "No more Walpurgis Night. I can't do that any more. It is... too much."

"Of course. During winter the court of appeal will decide to forbid the show anyways," Mr. Singer answered and handed Erik a glass of brandy, "Cheers. To a successful future."

Erik silently promised himself that he had to change things immediately or he would go mad - and even he himself didn't know what he might do then.

* * *

At Christmas Eve everyone was gathered in the canteen - everyone with a long-term-contract, that is. The freaks and the Girys. Mr. Singer was not there, he had gone on a trip to visit his family. There already was a rumor that he might just disappear now that his signature was on the contract that made Erik his co-manager.

Erik came in with a wide grin on his face. He carried a briefcase like a trophy in his hands.

"My friends," he began and everyone fell silent, "This year we worked hard to make me co-manager of this variety and shareholder of the limited liability company that owns this variety. Now that I am, it is time to keep my promise." He reached into the briefcase. "Here are our papers. The identity papers and the admittance to America! We are free." Well, not really free, but with the papers it would be possible to leave if they found another job that would enable them to pay the monthly installments for the loan.

People were crying, cheering, laughing with happiness. They hadn't thought this possible. Erik could barely fend off the many hugs and kisses he suddenly received. Of course none of the deformed people would avoid touching him, why should they? To them he was one of the good looking fellows.

"Free," Antoinette whispered, staring at her papers. She still couldn't read English but understood most of the spoken language. She looked up to where Erik stood, Dwarf Woman on his arms like she was a child, her small arms around his neck in a loving embrace. He too was crying. "He paid such a high price for this."

"Yes, he did," Meg answered and got up. She had carefully watched Erik, she knew that he struggled not to fall into insanity, she had seen him getting drunk or drugged seeking relief from the hell he was living in. She knew as well as anyone in this room how often Squelch and Joe had carried him to bed when he was too drunk to stand on his feet. But right now Erik was clearly sober, he was just happy.

"Erik?" Meg approached him, "Thank you." She had to stand on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Erik smiled at her. "I take it you do not hate me any more?" he asked, already knowing the answer to that. She nodded with a happy smile, pressing her papers to her breast. Freedom. He had given her freedom.

Erik took a place at a table and placed a pen, ink and paper before him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, as co-manager of this variety I am ready to receive any..." He stopped to search for the right word. Dismissal? Was dismissal the right word? No, dismissal meant an employer sending his employee away, not the other way round. "Notices of termination." He could only hope this was the correct saying, but he was not sure. It did not matter. Everyone's attention was on him and they surely did understand what he wanted to say.

"You would - allow us to leave?" Joe asked, "But if we leave, this variety would be ruined. The one thing that makes it special among all the shows on Coney Island is - us."

"I know," Erik replied, staring at the paper on the desk, "Everyone is allowed to leave."

Meg turned to her mother. "I could try to find a job at one of the reputable theaters!" she cried out happily, "Erik, would you..." She stopped herself as she saw the sad smile on his face.

"I wish I could come with you, but I can't," he gestured to his masked face. He would forever be an outcast because of his deformity and he knew no respectable theater or opera or music hall would ever hire him - no matter how perfect his skills as musician were.

"Then I stay here too!" Meg decided.

"Meg! Think of this, you are so very young. Coney Island is no place for you!" Antoinette warned her.

"You can't make me leave!" Meg replied stubbornly.

"Say something!" Antoinette turned to Erik, "You can't let her waste her life like that!"

Erik looked at Meg and their gazes met. "If she wants to stay, she can do so, she's a grown woman," he decided.

"But Erik..."

"Antoinette, your daughter is an adult now. If she wants to stay for another season, she is free to do so and I am happy to have her. I plan some new magic shows and am honored to have her as my lovely assistant."

Erik and Meg smiled as their gazes met - a small smile no one except them even noticed. "If love were a flower, what would it be?" Meg asked smiling.

"A snowdrop," Erik answered, "Because it blooms despite the bitter cold in winter."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	14. The Wind Changes

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **The Wind Changes**

Mr. Singer was surprised to find all of the freaks at the theater when he returned from his trip. He had been away to see his family who did not live in New York. Seeing his wife and his children for the first time in ten years had been a shock. The children were grown up and his wife had become old. He had not even recognized them when they met at the train station. It had been an awkward family reunion because to his children he was a stranger. But it had been good to see them all save and happy. Only it was so hard to leave them after the holidays to return to his variety on Coney Island. He wondered whom he would find there - Erik had promised the freaks would stay, all of them, but Singer didn't trust them. As soon as they had their papers they would try to leave - of course he could sue them, but what for? They could easily leave the country now that they had their papers back. A freak had no honor and couldn't be trusted.

Maybe except the masked one. Erik had a vital interest in staying and earning more money now that he was minority shareholder of the company. He surely would be a fool to stop working there now that he directly got his share of the profit. Trust everyone to be a greedy asshole - this rule had served Mr. Singer well in the past so of course he did not assume anything else.

Meg nearly fainted when she saw Mr. Singer coming back. She and her mother had assumed Erik had already killed the man and disposed of his body and was only claiming that his "partner" - to Erik it was very important that he was equal to Mr. Singer now - had gone on holiday to visit his family. Erik had done no such thing for it wouldn't get him anywhere. If Mr. Singer was dead, someone would inherit the shares and most likely sell them. Mr. Singer still reminded Erik of a fat rat, but not one of the nasty, aggressive black sewer rats, more like one of the fluffy multi-colored pet-rats. Erik could live with that, after all, he had enough experience in bringing managers in line - and Mr. Singer was a rather willing manager because he knew that Erik had a talent to create shows that perfectly matched the audience's current taste. It seemed Erik could somehow foresee the tastes of the entertainment seeking masses, so Mr. Singer would have been stupid not to listen to him. There was no need for little misfortunes to happen to bring Sam Singer to listen to Erik's suggestions.

Mr. Singer wanted to go to look for his employees and soon found that a third color had appeared on various doorframes: black. Of course red was still the sign "women only" and blue "men only" but black? What would that mean? He tried the door and was immediately grabbed by muscular black arms.

"Freaks only!" Attamamma snapped and lifted Mr. Singer effortlessly.

"It is my theater!"

"Would you go to the women's bathroom uninvited? No? Well, do the same courtesy to us," she tightened her embrace around Mr. Singer who suddenly feared the strongwoman would crush his ribs.

"Put him down," Joe said gently, "I apologize, Mr. Singer. We should have informed you before we decided on black as the color to mark the rooms reserved to us."

"What is going on here? Are you mad? I knew it was a mistake to give you freaks your papers! You are nothing but trouble!" Mr. Singer complained as soon as he was standing on his feet again. "Where is the masked bastard? It was his idea, wasn't it?"

Erik was in Mr. Singers office, he had redecorated the office adding a second desk and chair for himself and right now discussing the upcoming shows with his team - the team consisted of Benny as the writer, Vincent the designer, the He-She as costume tailor and Madame Giry as ballet mistress and of course Erik himself, who had decided that he would do only magic shows from now on and leave other tasks to others. Well, of course he would provide the music scores for all shows, but he would never admit that he wrote them.

"What is going on here?" Mr. Singer demanded angrily.

Madame Giry paled - she had been convinced that Singer was already dead, killed by Erik. "What is he doing here?" she whispered, but unfortunately Mr. Singer heard her.

"This is still my office and my variety. What are you doing here?"

Erik got up and spread his arms, putting on his most amiable air. "Mr. Singer, just the man we needed to see - we are discussing the new concept for the shows for the next season. Most income came from the late night shows, second the family shows and third the normal shows. I guess we could cancel the normal shows and concentrate on the family and late night business, don't you agree?" Mr. Singer was taken aback and did not know how to answer, at least not in the split second before Erik went on: "The late night shows won't feature freaks - except Tilly Three Legs who volunteered. The rest will only be in the family shows. I strongly suggest to cut down the late night shows and concentrate on the family shows, we are not in a brothel, are we?"

"What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Running a business?" Erik shot back, "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but don't you want profit? Well, I do."

"Then why do you want to concentrate on the family business? The late night shows bring in much more!"

"Certainly - and I won't stop them. I just said that - save Tilly - no freaks will participate in these," Erik replied smoothly, "Let the norms do the naked-dancing."

"But..."

"Mr. Samuel Singer, it was **you** who said that this is a variety not a brothel," Erik reminded him, "So I am doing just what you wanted me to do - make business in a serious way. Forget the scandal shows, I think there is much money in the family business."

"Kids don't have money."

"Some have rich parents and I certainly do think we would have a better standing in the family entertainment than in the..." Erik stopped himself and tried to find a word for what he wanted to say. It wasn't easy for he was not sure which ones were common language and which ones were considered rude. Finally he decided to use "sex trade".

* * *

It was a rather heated discussion but finally they found an agreement: They would do both - family shows at daytime, shows for adults only at night and no one would be forced to do anything degrading in the adults only shows. Erik could live with that - he even covered himself more in those shows but kept the scary-and-erotic style for those shows. The only difference was that only norms would be naked or nearly naked - the freaks would wear costumes, most of them quite modest for a variety. The only ones to suffer any indignities - besides being on the same stage that is - in the late night shows were the norms. Erik's robes were grey velvet with silver embroidery and they covered him completely, not the tiniest bit of skin was to be seen in the night shows.

In the kid's shows Erik decided to wear a light dove-grey and only a plain white mask and a wig with raven black hair that was tied back with a ribbon. Grey and silver were now the colors he preferred.

* * *

To Mr. Singer's surprise the family shows were a great success. The children just loved the masked magician and his music-magic-shows. The profit certainly did not reach the night shows, but it was better than he had anticipated.

What he did not like was that Erik soon insisted that the freaks should be allowed to go out as much as they liked in their spare time. "Who pays to see a freak if he is to be seen for free at the beach?" Mr. Singer argued.

"Do you know circus parades? They just pique the people's curiosity and draw them in. Give it a try, Mr. Singer, will you? Come on - did I not give you enough reason to trust my decisions?"

* * *

The first time the freaks dared to go out was in the morning. Erik had decided that they should all enjoy the beach before the tourists would fall in like a swarm of grasshoppers.

"You are so brave," the He-She whispered, nervously smoothing his/her dress. The He-She usually dressed like a woman, small and slim as he/she was. "I think I... I can't..."

"Of course you can!" Erik replied angrily, "The beach is wonderful in the morning!"

"They will be staring," Fleck reminded him.

"Let them. We have as much right to be there as the norms do. We already discussed this: Mr. Singer has no right to cage us here in this run-down building. As long as we do our jobs, we can do in our spare-time whatever we want to." Erik didn't really believe he was saying this for he was as scared as the others about their little stroll to the beach. It was one thing to sneak to "his" pier before sunrise when nobody was in the streets except a few men sleeping it off or going there in broad daylight. But where, if not on Coney Island, would a freak ever be able to go anywhere?

"I'm not sure," Attamamma shifted uncomfortably in her dress, "I feel absolutely ridiculous. In my costume I can at least breathe properly."

"You can't go out with only a loincloth!" Joe sternly interrupted, "You don't want to risk being arrested, do you?"

"I'm still not sure..." Tilly Three Legs piped.

"Out with you before I reconsider!" Erik commanded and together with Squelch and Joe herded the others out into the light-flooded streets. He was shaking with fear himself but determined not to let anyone see it. He wanted to show his friends that there was a place in the world and they mustn't duck down, hide or kneel down and accept any abuse - verbally or otherwise - humbly. They should go out with their heads held high, their spine erect and conquer those who thought them to be inferior. He had quite a hard time convincing himself to do that, to act completely against all of his instincts which told him to run and hide.

It was painful to force himself to go against his instincts, to go out despite his fear - but it would have been harder to confess to his friends that he was as scared as they were, that he was very good in making plans and making great inspring speaches but when it came to doing it himself he was as cowardly as anyone else. Maybe even more so. But right now he was too cowardly to confess his fear - and thus he had just one option: taking the lead and pretending to be brave.

So they went to the beach, but they were not enjoying themselves, in fact, they were too busy hoping to get back home without any unpleasant encounter with norms who might attack them.

It took many tries until they really dared to use their new freedom at least partially. There were businessmen who would tell them to leave when they were too close to their restaurants, cafes or whatever business they had, but there were others who didn't object to the freaks coming to them. A dollar from a freak is still a dollar, isn't it? As long as they paid they would be accepted as customers, as long as other customers didn't complain. Some were even happy to have the freaks as their customers for usually people came to stare at them - and they could demand that these people would buy something. So there was a cafe-bar close to the beach where the freaks were welcomed, sometimes even given drinks for free, for as soon as they would show up a small crowd of nosy people would follow them. It was some sort of unspoken agreement - the freaks would only visit those who welcomed them and avoided the others, but that was fine with them. It was exciting for them to go to a cafe and have a drink and a piece of cake, it really felt like a wonderful adventure acting as if they were norms just for a short time.

* * *

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 _to be continued.._

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_


	15. The Wind Changes (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **The Wind Changes (cont.)**

One morning Meg was sitting in a wooden casket as Erik gave his prop the final touches. Erik had required one of the store rooms to be turned into his magician's workshop to protect his secrets and now spend most of his time there - the room was his workshop, his office and he had even put up an old squeaking couch should he want to sleep there.

"Erik, what are we?" Meg asked. She was bored. Erik had her sitting there for hours to adjust the mechanism to fit her body perfectly. It was one of his disappearance - reappearance tricks that only worked because Meg was well-trained and her body really flexible to a degree most people wouldn't think it possible.

"What sort of question is that?" Erik asked. He was lying on his back beneath the casket Meg was sitting in just now. Right now he had to adjust the counterweight for Meg had put on two and a half kilogramm. He had counted on her weight to be not entirely the same every day so he could adjust it for about five kilogramm. "Do you plan drinking something before the show? If yes, I'll add another half a kilogramm," he asked.

"Yes, I have to drink enough or I dehydrate and faint," Meg replied, resting her head in her hands, her elbows resting on the sides of the casket, "You didn't answer my question, Erik, what are we?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Erik shot back annoyed. Meg had a habit of constantly wanting to talk to him which he found really annoying. Couldn't the girl just sit there and keep silent?

"You are remarkable stupid for a man supposed to be a genius," Meg remarked sarcastically, "After what we did - are we lovers? Engaged? What are we?"

Erik bolted at that and hit his head hard at the wooden board. "Ow!" he exclaimed and rolled out from under the mechanism, a hand pressed to his bleeding forehead. He sat there on the floor, staring up at Meg, his head spinning but he was sure it wasn't from hitting it hard.

"After you took my innocence I think I have a right to know what we are now," Meg stated.

"And you want me to answer that **now**? Can't that wait until I do have some time?" he groaned.

"You never have any time - or we are not alone. Or do you prefer to discuss this before everyone's ears?" she complained.

"Well..." he was at a loss. What could he answer now? He liked Meg as his assistant, but he surely did not love her, not like Christine. "You are my assistant."

Meg took off her shoe and thew it at him, he caught it with his left hand. "What was that for?" he asked.

She jumped out of the box, snatched her shoe from his hand and tried to hit him in the face with it. She hadn't counted on Erik being in his feet that quickly and holding her wrists. He was so much stronger, she was no match for him. "You stupid bastard!" she yelled and spat at him.

"Stop insulting me - my answer was undeniably correct!" Erik replied highly amused. The blonde hothead certainly could make him laugh sometimes.

That moment Madame Giry bursted into the room. She had heard Meg yell and wanted to see if she was harmed - she knew Erik's cleverly designed mechanisms sometimes were dangerous. She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Erik holding Meg at her wrists, Meg with one shoe in her hand and the two looked like they were fighting. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"It is not what it looks like!" Erik exclaimed, horrified at the thought Antoinette might think he was trying to assault her daughter, "She attacked me."

"I didn't! Mother, why is he such an ass?"

"Meg! Watch your tongue!" Antoinette scolded her, then turned to Erik, her finger accusingly raised, "And you explain to me what this is about!"

Erik turned bright red and lowered his head. He needed to come up with a lie very fast but right now he didn't know what to say.

"Have you been drinking again?"

"No! I do not drink before a magic show, I know this would be too dangerous. Antoinette, stop nagging, I know perfectly well myself that I am at risk of drinking too much - which is precisely why I do not drink any alcohol, especially not before a show. You know me better than to assume I would degenerate to a drunkard!" Erik defended himself, glad that the topic had changed.

"Then what were you two fighting about?" Antoinette demanded and suddenly Erik and Meg stood before her like two children caught stealing sweets.

"I... complained about her putting on weight," Erik lied. It was a believable lie, wasn't it? Especially when Meg reacted really furious at his statement. Was she just playing along or was she really angry with him for that now? Additional to all other reasons she might be angry at him, which he had yet to figure out?

"Meg!" Antoinette rounded on her daughter, "You are a dancer! A well-trained professional ballerina, ready to become prima ballerina in a respectable opera house - you really ought to know that you have to keep in shape and control your weight! You can't just go to the kitchen and ask for extra desserts - Fat Suzie can, it is her job being fat, but you really..." As Antoinette went on in her rebuke Meg and Erik stopped listening, they had both heard this speech before. Erik grinned behind Antoinette's back and Meg glared at him, unable to say something now, but she would get back at him for this prank. Her mother would watch her every bite for the next two months and this meant cancel the dessert - but Meg loved the desserts, mostly sweet delicacies which hadn't been sold to the audience the day before. She just needed to find a way to make Erik pay for that and wipe that mischievous grin from his malformed lips.

* * *

A few days later Meg got her chance for a little revenge. She met Erik as he came back from the beach and stopped to greet her.

"If you were a gentleman, you would invite me to have coffee with you now," Meg teased.

Erik mumbled something about 'no time' and 'busy' but she didn't understand what exactly he said.

"My mother forbid me to eat anything sweet and you are to blame! You could at least invite me to a cup of coffee!"

"God, you are really a nuisance," Erik groaned, but finally accepted and led her to the small cafe, politely helping her to her seat before he sat down himself. He took out a small leather purse to have a look at how much money he had. He didn't want any troubles paying the bill.

Meg raised her eyebrows. "I didn't know you had so many dollars," she said curiously, "Is Singer already paying you?"

"No. But helpful passers-by tend to help me out," Erik dryly commended, "So you are free to order tons of cheesecake."

Meg seemed to take him at his word, ordering three pieces of cheesecake. Erik shrugged: "I'll have to adjust the counterweight again."

"That's what I love about you - while my mother tells me to go on a diet you just adjust the mechanism. You are far more practical than she is," Meg beamed and gave him a happy smile, but she soon became serious again as she told him: "You had time to think now. What are we?"

Erik stared at his cup of tea. He didn't eat anything, right now he felt he wouldn't even be able to swallow that colored water they sold as tea. "I do not know," he answered uncertainly, "Why do you even ask?"

"And they call you a genius," Meg teased, "Really, even you can't be that stupid. What do you think I am? Your mistress? Your 'girl'?"

"I didn't think we were that close..." Erik defended himself.

"I think we were close enough!" Meg snapped angrily.

What could he answer to that now? Erik continued to stare at his tea as if that was in any way interesting. He was at a loss. "It was a mistake and I am to blame, I know," Erik sighed, "What do you want? Except a steady supply of cheesecake, that is?"

"That would be a good start!" Meg beamed.

As more people came to the beach and the kiosks, cafe's and fun-rides Meg became aware that Erik's posture changed. He was on alert, looked like a panther ready to go for his prey's throat. Was he scared? Nervous? Of course people stared at him, he was wearing a mask, but by that time Erik must have had enough experience of being in public to know nothing would happen except being stared at?

"Mister?" a small voice asked. A boy approached them, a girl half hiding behind him.

"Yes?" Erik turned to the child and forced himself to relax.

"Are you the magician?" the boy asked. Erik nodded. "Wow. My sister and I were at your show. How do you do that?"

"Which show?" Erik asked, he certainly couldn't remember in which show these kids might have been.

"You cut off her head and then put it back on. How did you do that?" The boy asked, pointing to Meg who was smiling happily at the two cute children.

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Erik told them.

"I want to be a magician too!" the boy exclaimed excitedly, "How can I become a magician?"

"Do you still attend to school?" Erik asked and raised his eyebrow. The boy nodded. "That's good. To become a magician you need to study math, physics and chemistry for that is the basic knowledge for a magician. Do you like maths?"

"Maths?" the boy's face fell. He certainly did not like maths.

"Yes," Erik answered gently, "Natural science is the basic for the studies of the supernatural. If you don't comprehend the natural, how could you even begin to understand the supernatural?"

"O..." the boy still seemed to be disappointed.

"I like maths," the girl piped up, "And I like you." She held out her hand to give him a half-dried crumpled flower she must have picked up somewhere.

"Thank you," Erik answered gently and smiled, "Where are your parents?"

The boy pointed to a kiosk where a woman tried to keep three other children from fighting over some sweets.

"Better go back before your mother wonders where you are," he ordered.

"She'll think you conjured us away!" the boy exclaimed excitedly, but the girl tugged at his vest and whined that she wanted back to her mama. Finally the boy gave in with an annoyed short, complaining about whiny little girls.

"They are so cute!" Meg happily exclaimed.

"Hrmph!" Erik was much less impressed, "Eat your cheesecake and then we go back to the variety. It becomes far too overcrowded here for my taste."

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 _Thank you for reading! Please review. I hope you have a nice weekend - next chapter will be up Monday._


	16. the Boss

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **the Boss**

After one exhausting day a very nervous Mr. Singer waited for Erik in the wings.

"You have to come immediately!" he demanded.

Erik sighed. He was tired and drenched in sweat after the sixth show on that rather hot summer day and wanted to have a cold wash and then go to bed. He certainly was in no mood for that man's discussion over details. "Later," he refused.

"There might be no 'later' if you do not come with me right now!" Mr. Singer exclaimed nervously, "The Boss wants to see you. In my office. Now." He pinched his nose and tried to calm his breathing. "We mustn't keep him waiting!"

Erik followed Singer to his office, steeling himself for what was to come. The Boss - that was the man everyone feared on Coney Island. Everyone called him just "the boss" as if he had no name, but surely he must have one. This was something new to Erik but he suddenly thought he might understand now what the managers had felt like when they had received one of his letters - a really uncomfortable sense of dread.

"Mr. Singer, my friend!" a short man with black hair greeted Sam Singer who replied with a deep bow and a friendly smile, but Singer was white as a sheet and couldn't conceal his trembling. "I must say, I was somewhat surprised to learn that you decided to get yourself a partner without asking my opinion first."

"B...b...but s...s...sir..." Mr Singer stuttered, "We agreed that as long as I pay what I'm due in time I can do whatever I want?"

"Sam!" the other man put an arm around the trembling Sam Singer in fake joviality, "How long do we know each other? Ten years? Fifteen? Must be fifteen now, isn't it?" Sam nodded and shuddered. "You know that nothing happens without my consent, don't you?" He strengthened his grasp at Sams's shoulders, which was necessary or the rat-like man might have collapsed. Erik just waited for Sam Singer to disappear into some mousehole.

But Erik didn't have much time to stand back and observe since the black-haired man turned to him now and let go of Sam Singer who sank down on the next chair hyperventilating.

"Ah, so this is the goose that lays golden eggs," he said and approached Erik, "I've seen your shows twice now. You are... a sight to behold."

Erik crossed his arms before his breast. He was still in his grey magicians robe with silver embroidery, the wig with the raven black hair tied back with a ribbon and his silver stage mask that covered all of his face. He could only hope to look rather intimidating, but the smaller man didn't seem impressed in the slightest. And he was not alone. Two large, very muscular men stood close by, Erik was sure they had guns and knifes hidden in their jackets.

When the smaller man noticed that Erik wouldn't answer he waived a hand. "Never mind. Mr. Y, since our friend Mr. Singer seems to have forgotten to introduce us - my name is Bruno Riccy. Have you ever heard of me?"

"Only of a man named 'the Boss'," Erik replied as coldly as he could manage, unblinking staring at the man and at the same time trying to figure out how to take down the two bodyguards.

"A, well, everyone gets a nickname sooner or later, don't you agree, Half-Demon?"

Erik didn't even blink. He knew he mustn't show any weakness now so he tried to conceal his embarrassment. "What do you want, Signor?" he asked, changing to Italian as soon as he could place the accent.

Riccy laughed. "What every decent businessman here on Coney Island wants - keeping the customers safe and happy so they come back to spend their money here." He spoke Italian, confirming Erik's guess that Bruno Riccy was either an immigrant from Italy or his parents were. The Italian shrugged and went on with fake sadness: "Unfortunately some of my customers complained that Mr. Singer does keep his freaks on a rather long leash, they run around freely, scaring kids on the beach."

Mr. Singer spoke up, his voice trembling: "It is his fault... I'd never... but he..." Mr. Singer seemed to understand Italian, but he answered in English.

A glare from Erik and Riccy stopped him.

"And who, Signor Riccy, did complain to you?" Erik asked, "The businessmen I regularly encounter seemed to be pleased to have some new customers." It was true, the freaks always drew in nosy people who could be asked to either buy something themselves or leave - the freaks seemed to be magnetic for more customers. Some innkeepers even offered free drinks just because they would draw in so many more guests. And the others who didn't like them would prevent them from even coming close to their restaurants, shops, fun-rides or whatever business they were running.

Riccy laughed. He hadn't heard anyone talking back to him in years. "Hehe, continue to amuse me, Mr. Y. Either you keep the freaks in line or I have to do it for you. Understood?"

"No," Erik replied, "If you want the ugly laws to be enforced in the state of New York you came to the wrong man - I'm no politician."

Riccy's face became an expressionless mask. "Out!" he ordered and Mr. Singer jumped to his feet and ran.

The two bodyguards flexed their fingers and approached Erik. He looked at them. They were not prepared for an opponent who would defend himself, they thought he was just another charlatan like there were so many on Coney Island. Erik reached for his lasso and braced himself for the fight.

It was a shorter fight than he had assumed. With one flick of his wrist the noose fell around the larger bodyguard's neck and Erik pulled him over, now Erik was standing with his back to a corner of the room, using the other man as a shield and he held the rope that slowly choked the man with his left hand and his small knife with his right. The knife pressed against the man's back where the right kidney was located. A stab to the kidney would surely be lethal, not to mention the pain the pressure already caused even if the blade didn't even rip through the fabric of the clothing.

"Signor Riccy," Erik said, knowing fully well he had just signed his own death sentence if he couldn't deescalate the situation quickly, "I apologize. A reflex. If I let go of your gorilla, would you consider keeping him on a tighter leash?"

The Boss laughed. "Really, you do amuse me. But a good laugh can't feed my poor starving kids, can it? You want your freaks to be allowed to roam freely - well then, what would it be worth to you?"

Erik let go of the man who suddenly seemed very eager to get away from him. "What do you want?"

"Just my share at your profit."

"Wait a moment - you already get the money for the insurance - that is a large part of the profit! I can't..." Erik argued.

"You didn't understand, did you, Mr. Y? This is the insurance for the company - but you certainly would want a personal insurance, don't you?"

Erik was silent. He hadn't calculated on this - his share of the profit would enable him to buy more shares in time until he had 51% - and then he could do whatever he wanted with the variety, even close it down and sell the building if he wanted to. But if he had to pay protection money, what could he do then?

"I can take care of myself rather well," he replied, not letting on that he actually was scared.

"It is your funeral."

* * *

As soon as Riccy and his bodyguards were out of the door Erik exhaled and sank down in a chair, resting his masked face in his hands. He felt cold, but sweat seemed to pour out of every pore now. He was shivering and didn't even hear the dragging footsteps as Singer approached him.

"I thought I'd have to wipe up your blood from my walls now," Singer said and went to the drawer, took out a bottle of brandy and two glasses, but he only offered one to Erik as he had had two of them.

"I can take care of myself," Erik replied as he accepted the glass with trembling hands, but he couldn't drink anyways with the mask covering all of his face.

They sat in the office silently for some time, neither of them able to speak a word. Singer was the first to recover: "I know what you are going through now. I opened this variety fifteen years ago, and I, too, thought I would never let anyone blackmail me."

"I have to nip it in the bud," Erik replied, "If I give in once he'll come back for more."

Singer shook his head. "Why do you think I sent my family away and haven't seen them in ten years? You have to know that the first warning is being beaten up. Second is rape of one of your family members and you never know which one."

"I don't have a family," Erik snapped, "All he can do is trying to kill me - let him try!"

Sam shook his head. "Give in. It is much easier. For you, for me, for your blonde dancer..."

"She is **not** my blonde dancer!"

"Tell that to the Boss - but I doubt he'll believe you."

Erik bowed his head. "What do you suggest I do?" he asked, unsure of how to proceed.

"Don't even think of playing the hero," Singer warned him.

"No..." Erik mused deep in thought, "I was never good playing the hero."

"Then you'll give in?"

Erik's posture suddenly changed. He stood up, his back straight, his shoulders squared. The silver mask glowing dangerously in the gaslight. As Singer looked in his dark eyes and suddenly those eyes reminded him of the black eyes of a shark before it attacks. This was not the desperate, ragged freak who had arrived two years ago, the freak who was so ill he could barely stand on his feet, this was a man who knew how to fight for himself. "Never," Erik hissed, "I'll show him what the Half-Demon is capable of!"

Sam Singer shuddered. He should never have taken that one in, he should have turned his back on this one and left him to rot in whatever prison that awaited him. What had possessed him to take in this madman?

"Do not worry, Sam, you are not my prime target," Erik said, his voice calm and slightly amused.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _As Erik raises in status he has to face another ugly side of Coney Island._


	17. Extortion

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Extortion**

Erik rushed up the stairs and yelled: "Everyone to the canteen! NOW!" It was an order to be obeyed and so soon norms and freaks alike sat at the canteen, dressed in nightshirts and dressing gowns, wondering what was so urgent they had to discuss this right now.

Erik got up and began: "You might now about a man called 'the Boss'. He chose to threaten me and I defied him. There is a risk that he will try to abduct one of you to blackmail this company. We are taking safety measures: No one, and that goes for all of you, is to leave the building. No private calls. We stay together as close as possible and put up a watch in shifts. Everyone has to be prepared to at least give alarm if one can't fight."

He hadn't even finished his little speech as Sam Singer burst into the room. "Mr. Y! Here - read this!" he handed Erik a piece of paper.

" _Mr. Y,_

 _present yourself at 3 a.m. this morning at the old warehouse. For every minute you are late, one of your beloved freaks will die_."

Erik suddenly realized what was happening. Fate seemed to have the most cruel sense of humor. He burst into a hysterical laughing fit that forced him to sit down. "One should think that I of all people would know better then to defy an extortionist when I'm a manager!" he exclaimed laughing, unable to stop the terrible noise that erupted from his throat, that laughter that sounded like pure madness, even to himself, but he couldn't contain it.

"What... are you going to do?" Joe asked.

Erik couldn't answer. He was still shaking with laughter, holding his sides and struggling for breath as tears ran beneath his silver mask. Mr. Singer grasped his wig and mask and tore it off - Erik's hands instinctively flew up to cover his face, but he still couldn't control his laughter.

"Get a hold of yourself, man!" Singer yelled and punched him with his fists, "You are going there and take the beating - and if we have to drag you there in chains!"

That finally brought Erik to his senses. He hiccuped and tried to stop shaking, tried to think clearly. He hadn't counted on the Boss acting that fast - every normal extortionist expects defiance and gives the victim some time to reconsider before taking such measures, but obviously he had been wrong in his assumptions. "No," he refused, his voice raspy and shaking, "If he knows he can turn us against each other he'll win. We have to..."

"Give in, immediately!" Singer spat, "You defied him - you pay the price. Alone! Understood?"

"No!" Erik refused, "You can't make me!"

"You cowardly scoundrel, would you rather sacrifice all of us before you just pay a little money and be done with it?" Singer yelled, "Size him!"

Erik was ready to defend himself against an attack from the norms, he hadn't counted that it would be Attamamma and Squelch who grabbed him from behind. "Let me go! Traitor!" he spat, trying to free himself, "You backstabbing bitch! Let me go - don't you see that this is what they want?"

"Erik, would you really risk all of our lives rather than just go there and apologize?" Joe asked. Joe, Dr. Johann Gängelmann, the voice of reason in this mess.

"No," Erik replied, "That was never my intention. But I see that I cannot rely on anyone of you - I did expect that from the norms, but certainly not from you. If one needs help, he get's it, wasn't it? Well, obviously this does not apply to me. Well, thank you for reminding me that I'm on my own as always."

* * *

Erik was at the run-down wooden building that was the warehouse exactly three minutes before 3 a.m. He wore a plain brown suit and one of his day-masks, a soft silk mask that let his skin breathe and was comfortable to wear. When he entered he saw that the warehouse was decorated with wooden benches to the right and the left and in the middle there was a hole in the ground. The hole wasn't really round, but it was easy to see that it should have been round and intended to have a diameter of 8 meters. A fighting pit.

"Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant," he mockingly greeted Riccy and a group of his thugs. Riccy had brought twenty strong men, all armed with heavy wooden sticks.

"I didn't think you'd actually come," Riccy greeted him, "Now, do you have something to say?"

"I guess I owe you an apology for my bad behavior last evening," Erik had to force the words out, he hated to have to crawl before this stupid villain just because he was alone and the other one had many helpers. But what could he do? He couldn't run for then others would pay the price - even if he could take Meg and Antoinette with him, he wouldn't be able to save everyone. Not that he cared about the norms, but there were some of the freaks he had considered his friends. Even if he doubted their friendship now he did not want them to die. Not now, not like this.

"And?"

Erik took a deep breath. "And I would gladly accept your most gracious offer of protection, if it still stands." The words were most bitter in his mouth.

Riccy smiled. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now - my offer still stands, but the price just increased to double the sum for the first year. The next year, if I do not have trouble collecting my money, you might get some... eh... discount."

Erik stood there, grounding his teeth and clenching his fists. Right now he had to endure the humiliation because he couldn't do anything, but that Riccy would pay, o he would make him pay, but not now. Revenge is a dish best served ice cold.

"You defied me," Riccy said with a mockingly sad tone, "And unfortunately I have to make an example of you now - it is nothing personal, you know, I just have to defend my reputation, you understand?" Erik understood all too well. The rules of that game were some he knew perfectly - the Boss had to keep everyone living in fear to keep up his reign of terror. If anyone stood up to him and the others realized that Riccy was just a small immigrant with a handful of thugs at his side, they would unite against him and drive him away or even kill him. Maybe that had been his own mistake at the opera, Erik mused, he had been too soft on them. He should have killed the fop before that boy had decided to defy him and roused everyone to rebel against the Phantom's reign - that fop had even risked Christine's life as a bait in the stupid trap they laid.

Erik almost laughed at the thought that he himself was now in the position to defy an extortionist. But no one rushed to his aid, there was no bloodthirsty mob backing him against Riccy. He was on his own.

"I understand," he kept his tone calm, "I guess the first warning is a good trashing? Alright, here I am."

* * *

Erik knew it was pointless to fight - even worse, it would give away his strength and right now he needed Riccy to believe Erik had been cowed by the sheer brutality to stomp out every thought of defiance. Being underestimated could be his strength, Erik knew that, but unfortunately he didn't have any other strength than that now. He allowed them to beat him, curling into a ball, other than most would have done, he didn't try to protect his head with his arms for his hands needed to be unharmed or he wouldn't be able to continue to work. His music as well as his magic needed the highest level of dexterity, a broken finger could cripple his ability forever.

They did beat him brutally, blows and kicks coming from every direction, hitting his back, shoulders, arms, legs - all he could do was curl his body into a ball and try to breathe. The blows and kicks to his back and ribs made it hard enough to breathe, he couldn't even scream, even if he had wanted to do so. Maybe being able to express his pain that way might help to endure it, he wouldn't know, he could only moan and that noise might not even be heard by the men who beat him merciless.

Erik didn't know how long this torture lasted. It could only have been minutes but it seemed half an eternity before they stopped. Someone spat at him and called him a disgusting freak. Too hurt and too weak to defend himself, Erik had no choice but to ignore it. His left eye was swollen shut, he had blood in his mouth. He spat blood and a tooth as he coughed and pushed himself up carefully. His arms obeyed him. Not broken, good.

"Did you learn your lesson or do you need more?" Riccy asked emotionless.

"No more... please," Erik whispered. He had enough, he wouldn't risk more pain now. The hatred he felt was cold, it was unlike the hatred he had felt in Paris. In Paris, his hatred was burning hot, no fire in the world could be that hot, but now it was cold as ice and easily hidden. "I will... bring you the first installment next months," he promised, "I can't pay it all at once."

"I'm not without mercy," Riccy replied, "Sam Singer knows where to find me. Don't keep me waiting."

Erik nodded and watched as they left. Only then did he dare to try to get to his feet. He somehow managed to drag himself up and stagger out of the dirty warehouse, trying to run back to the vaudeville theater - the only place that offered at least some shelter now. Where else could he go? He felt blood running from his mouth, from a cut at his left shoulder. His clothing was drenched with blood and sweat, the iron smell nauseating, as he stumbled blindly through the streets in the light just before sunrise. There were people in the streets, mostly workers, who saw him. They stared at him, knowing all too well what had happened to him, but no one offered assistance. No one approached him, but no one mocked him either. Erik wondered how they could stand by and watch him now. Surely they must see the blood on his clothing? Blood running down the front of his jacket, his left arm and dripping from his fingers? How could the norms stand by and watch as if this was nothing to them? How could anyone be so very indifferent?

He didn't make it to the variety. Somewhere his burning lungs refused to take in enough air and he sank to his knees coughing. The cough hurt his ribs that were bruised at best, but he didn't dare think about that now. He had survived worse in his life.

"Erik!" he heard someone call out and looked up. It were some of the freaks - Squelch, Joe, Fleck, Attamamma, the He-She and Vincent and Meg was with them. Stupid, stupid Meg! The streets were not save, not for a beautiful blonde girl!

Erik felt himself drawn in the strong arms of Squelch, someone put a blanket around his shoulders and he was picked up like he was a small boy.

"We are sorry, Erik, we had no choice," Squelch said, "We know what the Boss and his gang of thugs is capable of."

Erik didn't say anything, he buried his face in the shoulder of the strongman and cried as he was carried home.

* * *

Joe gently helped him to undress and cleaned and bandaged his wounds as best as he could. "You lost a tooth, the eye will be black for weeks, ribs cracked, the left knee and ankle twisted but not broken, bruises and cuts all over your body. This will be rather unpleasant, but nothing that won't heal with time and proper care," he informed Erik.

"Why didn't you trust me? We could have fought them - they are just a gang of thugs, nothing more!"

"Erik, the Boss has the politicians, the police and the judges back him - we can't take him on by force as you suggested. We simply can't," he explained, "Erik, we did this not just to protect ourselves, we also did it to protect you."

"Fine protection," Erik remarked dryly.

"Erik, they would have killed all of us. I've seen this happen before," Joe replied and the true concern in his voice made Erik look in the eyes of the tall man. "No one takes on Bruno Riccy by force. But if there is one man who has the cunning to do so, it would be you."

Erik tried to smile but his swollen lips refused the movement. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Do you... ow... think I can work tomorrow? I mean today? We can't cancel..."

"No. Give yourself at least one day rest - we'll put on shows we did before you arrived here. One day, okay?"

Erik nodded wearily. "I guess Sam Singer will make me pay for the loss of that day, won't he?"

"You bet!"

"Tell me about Bruno Riccy - and if you don't know anything, try to find it out. Ask every damned harlot in New York if you have to - every piece of information is essential now. That stupid bastard will pay for what he's done to me today!"

"Erik, don't make it worse!" another voice cut in. It was Squelch.

"You! Why did you stab me in the back? Why didn't you trust me that 'the Boss' can be as easily overpowered as anyone else?" Erik demanded angrily.

"Trust you? Erik, you were sitting there laughing like a madman. How could anyone of us trust you that moment?" Joe answered before anyone else could say something.

Erik hung his head in shame. Of course. Why should they trust him when he was sitting there laughing hysterically in the face of being threatened? They must have thought he was either drunk or drugged or had gone mad - nothing of that was true. But of course they could not see the cruel joke of that situation for they did not - could not - know about the Phantom of the Opera.

He had to regain their trust for he needed them - needed their loyalty. He couldn't do this alone. "I'm sorry. You are right, I was behaving rather odd. But now I need you to trust me, for I cannot do this alone. It is a high risk, but... would you be at my side when I free us from all chains than bind us now? I can do this - but not alone."

"You know how Spartacus ended," Joe warned him.

"Maybe you do not understand," Erik replied, "I do not intend to be a hero."

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 _Thank you for reading! Next chapter will be up Friday._

 _As always I'd love to get some reviews. They keep inspiring me to write more._


	18. Deal With the Devil

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Deal With the Devil**

Erik was soon back to the stage, his costumes concealing his injuries very well. He could only do a small selection of the shows, but at least he was back to the stage and working. One show a day and then he had to lie in his bed and rest. That gave him much time to think carefully - and plan his revenge.

And he secretly did discuss his scheme with the people he trusted - among them Meg and Antoinette Giry. The small group of conspirators - Erik, Joe, Squelch, Meg, Antoinette and Irene - sat in Erik's workshop as he explained his scheme to them.

"It will work," he insisted, "Everyone thinks I'm too small and too unimportant to ever do any harm - but do you know what causes the largest leviathan to crumble? Tiny bacteria."

"I don't like this," Antoinette warned him, "It is an extremely high risk."

"I'm with Erik," Meg stated, "I trust him."

Erik stared at speechless. She trusted him? After he had explained his scheme that could easily cost them their lives, all of them?

"Me too," Fleck agreed.

* * *

Erik sat in his workshop, trying to find some rest. He should sleep, he knew that, he would need his strength the next day, but he was too nervous to do so. He knew he was taking a high risk, the highest risk possible - if only the tiniest thing went wrong or if he had miscalculated or if any piece of information he had gathered was wrong it would cost his life. He could only hope that it would only be his life and not his friends too - but what was the alternative? He could either accept his fate being a slave to be exploited by various people or he could fight. But every fight meant risking his life.

Right now he felt like any herbivore who has to fight constantly to survive. He had to win each and every fight for to lose once would cost his life. A predator has an easier life - he only has to win in about 10 to 20 % of all his fights to catch enough prey to survive. Yes, allowing himself to lose was a luxury only the predators had. And only a top-level-predator could ever afford the luxury of having mercy and caring for others.

He did not extinguish the light when he decided to lie down on his couch. Right now he did not like the darkness.

A soft knock at the door startled him. He got up and opened the door. It was Meg.

"I can't sleep," she said, "May I come in?"

"Did anyone notice you left the dormitory?" Erik asked, "If anyone saw you..."

"I do not care what they might think," Meg replied, tears welling up in her eyes, "I just realized that this might be the last time I ever see you. Maybe you die tomorrow."

Erik allowed her to come into his workshop. The room was tidier than usually, as if he didn't want to leave a mess behind. He locked the door carefully. "Tears, Meg?" he asked, "I didn't think anyone would mourn my passing. Especially you have no reason to cry - I am the one who destroyed your life."

Meg stared at him. She wore her nightshirt and dressing gown, but was barefooted. Erik picked up the blanket from his couch and put it around her shoulders. "Go back to bed, Meg. You should not be alone with me now, not like this," he replied and turned round so his back was to her as he hugged himself tightly. He couldn't break down now, he needed his full capacities now.

"At least you are sober now," she teased him, sniffing and trying to smile.

"That I am. I can't risk being intoxicated," he answered and now Meg realized that he was tensed up an trembling.

"You shouldn't risk a sleepless night too," she answered softly and placed her hands on his shoulders. His muscles were so tight she did not feel which part of his shoulders were muscle and which bone. His back seemed to be only worse. No wonder he could not relax. She started rubbing his back.

"Ouch!" Erik complained as she touched a really hard muscle in his back. He suddenly turned round and grabbed her arms. "Leave now!" he ordered harshly, "Leave before I do something we both will regret."

"If you live to regret it," Meg replied, smiling despite her tears.

He let go of her and stared at his shaking hands. The ring on his hand - he took it off hand handed it to Meg. "I can't bear the thought of them taking this off my dead boy. This ring - it is the only thing I have left. I gave it to... to my Christine, she gave it back before she left. I do not want them to have it. Meg, can you keep it for me? If I survive, I want it back. If not, may it bring you more luck than me."

She took the ring and suddenly wrapped her arms around his breast, embracing him tightly. "I do not want you do die!" He returned the embrace. It felt so good having someone holding him, someone who was fond of him. He did not dare hope she would love him, but she... was it possible that she might love him after all? Why? How? He had done nothing to win her love, on the contrary, she would have any right to hate him. Why didn't she?

"Meg, would you... stay with me tonight?" he asked shyly, "I do not want to be alone."

* * *

Meg woke after some hours because Erik moved beside her and the narrow couch squeaked in protest to his slight movement.

"I have to go," he whispered, "Thank you for staying with me."

"Is there no other way?" Meg asked, she was afraid this might be the last time she ever saw him.

He shook his head and straightened his clothing. "No. Meg... would you... kiss me?" As she turned to him and looked up curiously he pleaded almost desperately: "Kiss me - today I'm going to make a pact with the devil himself. Kiss me, please." She kissed him on the lips. His lips were much dryer and rougher than she had expected them to be. It was like kissing cracked leather.

"Thank you, Meg," Erik replied softly, "Now go back to the dormitory before your mother notices you've been away."

* * *

It was a sunny day and Bruno Riccy was rather relaxed in his office. The office was just a house where he lived together with servants and bodyguards. He had many enemies and knew that very well. He had four large dogs to guard the house should his human bodyguards fail to hear an intruder.

"The masked freak is here," one of his underlings announced.

"Show him in." Bruno Riccy knew how important it was to impress any guests therefor his study was designed to look like a court room with Riccy sitting at a throne-like chair behind a large mahogany desk. To his right and left he had his bodyguards standing, ready to interfere should anyone try to attack him.

Erik came in, carrying a dirty brown leather bag. His dark grey suit was crumbled and dusty, his mask strained with sweat and instead of a wig he wore a rather crumbled hat. His clothing gave away his distress.

"So, you decided to do the sensible thing and pay," Bruno Riccy lit a large cigar and blew the smoke lazily, not even looking at the masked freak who fancied himself a businessman. After all, this freak was not important enough to be angry with him - but even a mosquito could become tiresome if not dealt with properly.

Erik reached in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a bundle of dollars. The dollars were partly ripped and crumbled. He threw them onto the desk. Riccy didn't even bother to count the money. The sum was too small to bother counting, this masked freak not really worth his time.

"Maybe we can come to a different agreement for the future," Erik asked.

The Italian sighed. Another beggar unable to earn enough to pay his debts begging for mercy. "And what do you want?" he asked, making sure the other man would hear his annoyance.

"You might want me at your side rather than be my enemy," Erik stated calmly. He did not feel calm, his heart was racing and he fought hard to keep himself from hyperventilating. This was a critical point.

Burno Riccy laughed. "You really know how to amuse me, but then, that makes a good entertainer, isn't it? Why would I give a damn about you?"

"Because, Signor Riccy, what would you say if your darling daughter would have to run through the streets like I had to? Brutally beaten, hurt, degraded, blood running down her back, her legs - and everyone would see her like this and know what happened to her?"

Erik held his breath as he stared at the other man. Their staring match didn't last long and it was the Italian who turned away, waiving his hand, remarking lightly: "Won't happen. She's save." He made a mental note to check how anyone had found out that he had a daughter.

Erik gave an elegant deep bow, then he stood there like a soldier saluting a high officer, addressing the other men in the room: "Gentlemen, you ought to stand up. We are in the presence of a man of really great faith."

"Great faith?" This caught Bruno Riccy by surprise. Why did this freak assume he had any faith at all?

"Your faith in guardian spirits is really admirable, if somewhat misplaced," Erik said and threw his bag to one of the guards. The guard caught it, opened it - and was sick almost the very same moment. "Now you ruined the carpet," Erik stated, "Not that this carpet is worth anything - it just a cheap copy of a Persian carpet, where did you get it? From some Chinese?"

"What is it?" a suddenly pale Bruno Riccy asked and grabbed the dirty leather bag. What he found there caused him to drop it with a panicked scream - it was the head of his daughter's bodyguard.

"It is up to you now," Erik stated, crossing his arms before his breast, "How do you want your daughter back? Hurt and bleeding or happy and safe?"

"I kill you, bastard!"

"I wouldn't do that or you might never see the girl again," Erik threatened.

"Alright, what do you want?"

Erik let out a breath of relieve. It worked. His plan worked - he had found the Boss'es weak spot - his darling daughter. He would live. "A place at your side," he replied, "Your methods of bringing people in line are unimaginative and vulgar. You could do with some new ideas. And I'd prefer to be in your favor rather than having to fight you. What do you say?"

"You uncovered where my daughter lives, broke into that house, killing God knows how many bodyguards - just to become one of my... employees?" Bruno Riccy asked dumbfounded, then thought about this. "I have to admit that I am impressed by your methods."

"Thank you, sir," Erik replied politely, standing his ground, observing how the bodyguards suddenly backed away from him. He had successfully scared them.

"Are you sure you are not of Sicilian ancestry?" Bruno Riccy asked with a smile, "Your ruthlessness and dedication could prove you to be a relative of mine."

"I take this as a great compliment," Erik answered with a bow.

"Are you aware that if I accept you now I demand loyalty to the death?" Riccy narrowed his eyes.

"Perfectly. I wouldn't want it in any other way."

"And you would speak the oath? Burning an image of the saints with your blood on it, swearing loyalty or forfeiting eternal rest?"

What superstition was that? Did Riccy truly believe such an oath would ever be binding? Did he really think Erik would be afraid of hell - and think such unchristian rite would really threaten his soul more than the deeds he had already done? "Of course," he answered somehow mechanic.

"Well then. Proceed."

"Here? Now?" This was a bit too fast for Erik, but he could not back out. He did what he was told to, cutting his finger and letting a few drops of blood fall on an image of a saint - it was a female saint and he had no idea who she might be - then burning the paper and speaking the words he was told to say. After that, the men in the room came to salute him, which meant they would come very close and pretend to kiss his cheeks. After that he was to kiss Riccy's ring. Erik did, wondering if such a rite could really bring someone to be loyal, he doubted it very much.

"Welcome, Mr. Y, my friend," Riccy said, "And now - tell me where my daughter is and how you did it?" He pointed to the bag that was still on his desk.

Erik took out the head and pushed it in Riccy's hands. "Feel the texture. It is a stage prop - your daughter is at home and I guess her bodyguard is alive and well. I have to admire the artist for this image is nearly perfect." He took out two tickets for one of his magic shows and held them out to Riccy: "Give them to your daughter with my best wishes. I'd love to entertain a beautiful girl like her."

"This is... a fake. You bluffed. It was all a bluff," Riccy stated unable to believe what his senses told him, "You risked your life and had nothing - literally nothing - but a bluff to save your head. You are the most ruthless, stupid..."

"Stupid, sir? If I am stupid, what are you who fell for my cunning - or better: uncanny - scheme?" Erik dryly remarked and lifted his eyebrow, "I just wanted to show you what I can do - and how I can get things done without resorting to vulgar methods like direct threats and beating men to pulp. By the way - Your daughter might want this back." He handed the man a pink silk ribbon with a butterfly motive in delicate embroidery.

"My God..." Riccy whispered as he realized the hidden meaning. The fake head of the bodyguard had such a likeness, whoever crafted it must have seen the man rather closely and this was undoubtedly the ribbon his wife had lovingly made for their daughter. The Italian sank to his chair. That masked man had been in his house, close enough to steal a ribbon from his daughter's head and seen the most trusted bodyguard, had made it out again without being noticed - he could have easily kidnapped the girl and killed the bodyguards. He could have done it. It was an even more sophisticated trick than initially assumed.

"Sir, may I go back to work now? I have to run a theater. You know where to find me should you need my assistance. I'm at your disposal, sir."

"The money?" Riccy pointed to the crumbled dollars on his desk, "It's yours."

Erik stared at the dollars, thinking of how hard it was to get them - how many pockets he had to pick and how many burglaries he had to commit to get that sum. The countless sleepless nights toilsome stealing meager sums from people who didn't have much themselves until he finally had enough to pay the extortion money. He wouldn't - couldn't - bring himself to admit how badly he needed this money. He was too ashamed of his poverty and weakness. "Keep it," he replied, "As a token of our new friendship."

* * *

Erik came back to the variety bathed in cold sweat and completely out of breath. As soon as the side-entrance door was closed behind him, he sank to hands and knees, gasping for air. He had lost his hat in his frantic run through the streets, but he did not care.

"I live..." he gasped and as soon as he was able to breathe toppled sideways in a fit of hysterical laughter. "He fell for it... I'll live... he..."

"He fell for it? Really?" Antoinette exclaimed happily, "Erik, you did it. Meg! Meg, come quickly! Erik did it! His plan worked!" The two women embraced each other, laughing and crying at the same time.

Squelch helped Erik ho his feet and held him, allowing him to rest his head on his shoulder as Erik finally relaxed enough to feel everything his adrenaline high had suppressed until then. Erik was laughing and crying at the same time with relief, feeling like a man who had gone to his execution, already feeling the rope around his neck, only to be spared in the very last moment. He was drenched in cold sweat and trembling with cold in his exhaustion.

"He needs rest," Joe decided, "Erik? Erik, can you climb the stairs? You need to rest now. I'll fetch a hot soup from the kitchen, this will help."

"What's going on here?" Mr. Singer demanded, alerted by the hubbub.

"Mr. Singer, he did it! He really did it!" Fleck couldn't hold back her excitement, "Erik did it! The Boss gave in!"

Mr. Singer paled. "What did he do?" he asked terrified.

"Mr. Singer... I..." Erik tried to speak but his breathing was still erratic, the words came out in gasps, "...I guess I got a... side job. I'm... one of... his men now."

"You... this is one of your pranks, isn't it? Why would the Boss accept you in his gang? He only has the toughest, most cruel, most cunning criminals..." Singer trailed off and never finished the sentence as the meaning sank in. The Boss had only accepted men who had proven themselves in the pit fights as his helpers - if this was true and Erik had somehow wrestled his way into that gang of criminals, what did this say about him? Sam Singer suddenly wished he had never encountered that man. Or he had treated him better from the beginning. Whatever - he feared for his own life now.

No one noticed Mr. Singer's distress, everyone was busy helping Erik. Erik needed to eat something, drink something and then lie down and rest, but it took much coaxing from Joe and Irene to get him to rest at least for some hours before the shows would begin.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Erik is a magician - and he uses that skill to get things done. Now Bruno Riccy and Sam Singer have something to think about._


	19. Painting the Future

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Painting the Future**

Mr. Singer agreed immediately as Erik suggested that he should visit his family that winter again for two reasons - he didn't want to cross Erik now, he was afraid of him, and on the other hand he genuinely wanted to get to know his family better. He had been absent far too long. Taking that trip was a risk for he was not sure what Erik might do in the theater that winter, but he somehow suspected Erik might do whatever he wanted to do anyways.

They had a heated discussion for Erik wanted to get his share of the profit in cash and buy more shares of the limited liability company, which Singer refused outright. He insisted that Erik would first pay his debt to the company before getting any money. Erik threatened to complain to the Boss, but Singer had called his bluff, knowing well enough that as long as he paid the "insurance" the Boss had a vital interest in keeping his business running smoothly - and the Boss - despite having accepted Erik in his gang now - didn't trust the deformed man. On the contrary, the Boss had understood just how dangerous Erik was and kept him away from any criminal activity, ordering him strictly to "stay away".

Nice job for Erik to "stay away" when he had actually hoped to stay away from his legal occupation and become one of Bruno Riccy's enforcers. Erik had hoped to learn how Riccy had gotten his position as the one balancing a tightrope between legal and illegal activity, how he got away with what he did and which men he had to bribe in order to do so - and Riccy, fully understanding Erik's plan, just kept him away. Of course when they met they were extremely polite and friendly, both men knowing just how dangerous the other one actually was, and Erik was willing to obey Riccy's orders, knowing he could not take on the Boss singlehandedly.

Erik had organized the Christmas Celebration that year. Not because he loved Christmas or was a faithful Christian, just because he knew that such celebrations could bring the people closer together. It was the first year more 'norms' had stayed at the variety for the winter, preferring to be in the dormitories than going out looking for another job, this was due to the fact that most of them were not white people and did not want to deal with the disrespect the white upper class showed the members of inferior races. The variety had become a little bubble of peace in a hostile world where racism was not tolerated and everyone was treated according to his or her skills and all physical flaws one might have seemed to be irrelevant.

At first the norms and the freaks kept apart until Erik got up and made a point taking his place on an empty table. It was Meg and Antoinette who got up immediately and went to him. They were suspiciously eyed by both groups, but finally Joe got up, muttering something about this being completely ridiculous and childish and took a now empty place at the norm's table. At first the atmosphere was icy, but with some time and much punch they began talking to each other, surprised to find that the other people were not as bad as they had thought them to be.

"I'm proud of you," Madame Giry said and raised her glass to Erik.

"Why?" he asked, not understanding the situation. He wanted to drink punch too but was ashamed of the strong craving he felt to get intoxicated. It was a weakness he must not give in. Never again. So at this celebration all he drank was tea, trying not to let anyone see his inner fight.

"You become a good leader," Antoinette explained, "You bring them together. I never thought this was possible, but now we have a black woman dancing with a white man and no one thinks ill of that. Fat Suzie is dancing with a Chinese. Just look - people from all races and all... um..." she struggled to find a term that would not be considered insulting "...physical peculiarities celebrate together. And that all thanks to you."

Erik smiled at her. "I never intended to become a role model," he replied, "But it seems fate has other plans."

"Any plans for next year?" Meg asked.

"O yes. I want to re-establish this theater as purely family entertainment and nothing indecent. Mr. Singer won't like this, but since he does not want to sell any shares to me, I got another idea: I'm going to buy shares of another theater. We would co-operate then, Mr. Singer, me and Mr. Meyer. Meyer is from Germany. His theater is the competitor for us - and he would be willing to sell me some shares to establish a cooperation rather than a competition. Meyer can have the adult business and we get the family entertainment."

"Nice plan, but do you have the money to buy shares from Meyer?" Antoinette asked, she liked the plan of never having to do late night shows again - especially because she hated to see her daughter dancing in these flimsy costumes.

"No. But I can get a loan from a bank - they accept my shares of the two limited liability companies as security for the loan. I should be able to pay the loan back with the profit from both cooperating companies," Erik explained.

Antoinette was not convinced. "You did not even pay back what you owe Mr. Singer..."

"What does a women know about business?" Erik snapped annoyed that she did not trust him. He knew it was a risk, but why shouldn't he take it? He had nothing to lose and everything to win.

"Any ideas for new shows?" Meg asked.

"O yes, I'd like to do a comedy show with escapist tricks. 'Impatient Patient' is the working title - it is about a patients in a hospital trying to escape the confinement to bed and doctors and nurses trying to make them stay."

"Sounds funny."

"Benny is working on the details. The second one is a new approach: 'The Greedy Barkeeper' - I want to put up a bar on stage and invite the audience to come to the bar, as the actors will use the floor as well. Actors and audience mix, there is no strict plot, it will be unscripted. The main line is that the barkeeper and his colleagues are swindling and stealing from the guests and of course in the end he's seized by a policeman and the personal things are returned to the rightful owners. It is something completely new, so it will attract the audience."

"Sounds good - so everyone from the audience can go to the stage and interact with the characters there, like buying a drink or participating in a card game?" Meg asked.

"That's the idea," Erik replied, "I have no idea how the audience reacts, but let's give it a try. By the way, I plan a Little-Red-Riding-Hood ballet. Will be of course with a mechanic wolf which can really swallow the actors - and they can be released from its belly afterwards."

"Do you think I'd look good in red?" Meg asked excited.

"Most beautiful."

Madame Giry nearly choked on her punch. "Is something going on between the two of you I should know?" she asked suspicious. Why were Erik and her daughter so very friendly with each other? Why didn't they yell and quarrel as they used to?

"What? No!" Meg shot back angrily, "Mother, why do you accuse me of being a harlot whenever I just try to be friendly with someone?"

"Do you know what we do when we are bored?" Erik asked, trying awkwardly to change the topic, "We ask Irene Fleck and Dr. Johann Gängelmann what the difference between Austria and Germany is."

"Why would that be funny?" Meg asked, she would be highly interested in anything now.

"Because Irene is from Austria and Johann from Germany. Just ask them - and watch them quarrel for the next two hours. It can be highly amusing," Erik answered with a mischievous smile.

"I did not know there was a difference between Germany and Austria?" Antoinette replied. It was a mistake for Irene Fleck had heard her and began a lecture on why Austria was a better country to live in than Germany and people in Austria were much friendlier, more cultivated and of course much cleverer that Germans. That did not go unnoticed by Dr. Gängelmann who felt patriotically obliged to disagree and withing moments they had a heated argument - to everyone else's amusement.

No one noticed that Erik and Meg had secretly left the party.

* * *

They went out to the beach despite the darkness and the snow. Both had a mug filled with hot liquid - Meg her punch, Erik still managed to stick to tea - in their gloved hands as they walked side by side in the fresh show.

"As a child I always loved fresh snow," Meg told him, "I loved leaving my tracks in the snow."

"As a child I always hated winter because I had no shoes," Erik replied, "But I loved Christmas. A deformed child barely dressed in rugs sitting at the door of a church - at Christmas this can be quite profitable. I sometimes even got tea and cake from merciful souls."

Meg looked up at him. "I didn't mean to upset you," she said sadly, "I had forgotten not everyone's childhood was as happy as mine."

They stood above the pier, not daring going closer in the darkness with all that ice at the pier. The ice on the sea was too thin, it would break should they try to go there. "I always liked the stars," Erik said suddenly, "Right now in the sky is beautiful." He took a sip from his only lukewarm tea.

They stood silently side by side for some time, slowly emptying their mugs. Suddenly Erik sighed. "They are celebrating Christmas in France now. Do you think Christine is... happy?" His question did not startle or upset Meg. Christine had been her best friend and Meg had always known how much Erik had loved the singer.

"I think so. She was accepted by the de Chagny family very well once she gave up singing on stage. They have a son now, Gustave, born exactly twelve months after their wedding," Meg answered.

Erik dropped his empty mug as his head shot round so fast a painful cramp in his neck reminded him that he should not overexercise his cold muscles in this icy weather. "How... how do you know?" he asked astonished.

"Christine and I have send letters to each other since the first Christmas - when you gave me money. I wrote to her and she did write back, since then I always write as soon as I have enough money to pay for the delivery," Meg informed him.

Erik stopped dead in his tracks as if he was frozen in place. "You... wrote her?" he yelled, suddenly furious, "Are you mad? Have you ever considered the risk of keeping any contact? If only one of the letters gets in the wrong hands the police will know where we are and what do you think America will do if France requests that a few certain criminals are seized and send back to France to stand trial?"

Meg paled as she realized her error. She had never thought of that, just wanted to keep in contact with her best friend. "I don't think Christine would do that," she replied, "And I never told her anything about you. She thinks you're dead and only mother and I escaped to America."

"But your mother is a wanted woman too," Erik warned her, "And... what else did you tell her?"

"Just that I have a job in a small theater as a primaballerina because I prefer to be the primaballerina in a small theater to being just one of many dancers in a larger opera house," Meg replied.

"Did you... keep the letters she wrote to you?" Erik asked and moved carefully closer to Meg.

"All of them," she replied.

"May I read them?" Erik could not hide his excitement. He was trembling but not with cold.

"They are private," Meg rejected his request.

Before she could say anything more, Erik had grabbed her left wrist, turned her round hand held her arm behind her back in a painful angle, his other hand at her throat as he stood behind her, slightly bent so his mouth was at the level of her left ear. "How dare you! Have you not learned in time that there are no secrets from the Phantom? How dare you even try! You will give me those letters, all of them, is that clear?" He pushed her towards the pier effortlessly. The ground was frozen, ice covering the wooden planks of the pier. "Beware, girl, I know you are a good swimmer, but can you swim in these clothes in icy water?" He snarled.

"Erik, stop! Erik, you are hurting me! Stop!" Meg cried out and suddenly Erik released her and gently led her back to solid ground.

She turned round and saw that the visible part of his face was pale, his brown eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry, Meg. I do not know what possessed me... I'm so sorry, Meg."

"Three years," Meg whispered, trembling, her teeth chattering, "Three years and I thought you left the Phantom behind. I... I trusted you."

"Forgive me, Meg. I did not mean it. I... I am so sorry, really, tell me how... I can make up for this?"

"Never, never do that again!" she hit him with her fists, pounding on his chest crying, "Never threaten me again!"

"I won't Meg, I promise," he replied softly, "I am deeply sorry. Learning that you keep in contact with Christine was a shock, I... I am really sorry. Forgive me?" he put a gloved finger under her chin, lifting it so she looked up at him. He was smiling, a strange expression on his face.

Meg wiped her tears away. "Okay," she answered, sniffing.

Erik tried another approach. "If you show me the letters, I'll show you my plans."

"What plans?"

"Our future," he replied with a smile, "No one but me knows, but... if you show me the letters, I'll let you see them."

Meg fought with herself. Should she give him the letters? She really wanted to know what he was up to. Finally her curiosity got the better of her and she agreed.

* * *

They sat in Erik's workshop. He had fired the small stove but it didn't do much good, it was still very cold in that room. Erik had put on his fingerless gloves he usually wore when he was working in winter.

Meg handed Erik a bundle of crumbled paper and he placed a stack of paper on the desk. Erik lit the two oil lamps so they would have enough light to read. While he retreated to the couch to read the letters Christine had written to Meg, Meg took his place at the desk and stared at the papers he had placed there.

Erik felt as if his heart would be torn apart when he read the letters. Christine told Meg of how happy she was in her marriage and what a wonderful husband Raoul was - and of their son, Gustave, who seemed to be the perfect joy for both parents. He broke down sobbing, unable to control his tears, unable to contain the pain. Had Meg not been sitting there he would have killed himself then and there.

Erik had no idea how long he had been sitting at the couch, neither could he recall Meg coming to him. When he came to his senses he found himself lying on the couch, his head in Meg's lap and she was holding his hands. He pushed himself up slowly as he realized that his face had been pressed against Meg's lower stomach - no man should ever have his face there at the lap of any woman. "I'm sorry..." he stuttered ashamed of himself and his uncontrolled outburst.

"It's okay," Meg replied with a smile. Her eyes too were red as if she had been crying. "This must be painful to learn just how happy she is with another man."

"You should not have to see me like this," he mumbled, fighting for composure as he reached for another letter, he just had to know even if he would risk another breakdown.

It was the last letter and it gave him some information he had never considered possible. Christine was obviously replying to something Meg had written her, telling Meg how happy she was for her now that Meg had found someone she loved, asking questions about the co-manager of the theater Meg had fallen in love with and what the status of being "someone's girl" meant in America.

Erik's jaw dropped as he realized that Meg had obviously told Christine she was in love with the co-manager of the theater. At first he had thought Meg had become Mr. Singer's mistress, but when Christine wrote something about the co-manager being the creative manager he realized that Meg had meant - **him**. Him, of all people! No wonder she had been reluctant to show him the letters. He turned to Meg. "Is that... is that true? You... wrote her that you... fell in love with **me**?" he asked, his voice quavering.

Meg nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Erik asked.

"You... stupid, blind idiot! After all I did for you, you still didn't know? Just how stupid can you be?" Meg was in a state between laughing and crying and Erik did not know how to reply, but finally he decided that he would not be faithful to Christine - not after reading the letters that she was so very happy with Raoul. And then, he already had betrayed Christine, so there was no reason not to do it again. He felt as if he would take revenge on her when he took another woman as "his girl" as American's would name it.

He held out his hand. "I guess you are right. You... are my girl now," he told her almost shyly. It was a warm feeling, the knowledge that finally someone loved him, even if he was not sure what he felt for her. Surely he liked her, but sometimes he felt like killing her. It was so very different from what he had felt for Christine, it could not be love. Friendship? Yes, what he felt was mainly the same he felt for the few people he called his friends now, only that the blonde dancer was a very beautiful young woman and he could not deny his typically male reaction to being so close to her and the possibilities it offered.

* * *

Meg was sitting at the desk, watching Erik sleep on the couch a few hours later. She had never seen him so peaceful, she even liked the smile on his face. It had been awkward for they were both inexperienced, and Meg found she liked the boyish shyness and clumsiness Erik had shown. If he had been with other women before, there couldn't have been much or he wouldn't be so inexperienced. She decided to ask him about other women in his life. Well, there had been Christine, of course, but that she had known from the beginning. Before Christine? Erik was older than her, maybe twice as old, maybe more - it was entirely possible that there had been several other women in his life.

"Erik?" she asked as she saw his eyes opening a bit. They were both fully dressed due to the coldness in the room.

"Hmmm?"

"Have there been... other women?" she asked.

He sat up and rearranged his mask and wig. He blushed and she could guess that this was a yes.

"Who?" she asked, "Do I know her?"

He nodded.

"Christine?"

The pain in his eyes told her that this was the worst thing she could have said. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "No," he answered, "I loved Christine, but never... you know..." he gestured awkwardly, unable to name what they had done before, "No. Suzie."

"Suzie? You and Fat Suzie?" Meg asked, laughing. Erik and Fat Suzie - the oddest couple she could think of, "Others?"

"Attamamma," Erik awkwardly confessed, feeling obliged to tell the truth now.

"The black strongwoman? But she... is ugly!"

"So am I," he replied softly, "And..." there was an amused glint in his eyes, "...it didn't bother you, did it?"

"Anyone else?" Meg asked, feeling a terrible pang of jealousy rising in her chest.

Erik blushed even more and got up from the couch, began sorting the papers he had shown her.

"Come on, who?" she pressed him.

"One morning I woke with a terrible hangover and no recollection at all what had happened next to the He-She," he said, bright red with shame, "I doubt anything could have happened, we were both too drunk, but... we do not know," he confessed awkwardly, then turned round: "Alright, are you done hearing my confession? My turn. Who?"

"What do you mean, who?" she asked surprised.

"I want the names of the men you have been with!" he demanded.

"Well... you. No one else."

Erik felt cheap. He had no reason to mistrust her and obviously she had felt obliged to be faithful to him after he took her innocence. He had not felt any such obligation, to be true, he had felt like he had betrayed Christine with Meg and felt guilty for betraying Christine, never thinking what he was doing to Meg. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I promise our future will be better."

"How?" Meg asked, "What kind of life is this? Living in dormitories with so many others, only secretly seeing each other in private?"

"You saw the plans, didn't you?" Erik asked and Meg confessed that she did not understand them. Erik placed a map of Coney Island before her. "This is Coney Island. This is Sam Singer's Spectacular Show. Around this variety are various cafe's, shops, kiosks. Here is the next attraction, the Western Show - a mix of riding show and museum. Kiosks, shops, and there is a fun-ride. Another fun ride. A tunnel of horrors. Here is a hotel and that one is a brothel. A warehouse. Kiosks, restaurants, hotels. That is the theater I want to establish a cooperation with - they do the naked dancing, we do the family shows. A few warehouses, this one is the pit fights."

"And how does this, in any way, show our future?" Meg asked not understanding anything.

"Coney Island is... a chaos. Disorganized. Difficult to navigate for customers. Many customers don't come because they do not find the fun-rides they might like. If one could bring some order in that chaos, bring the businessmen to cooperate instead of turning against each other, it would be easier for all of us," Erik explained and took out another map, one he had drawn himself. "Now this is how I would do it - a well-organized theme park. Here is the kid's area, there is for adults and elder children, this area is for men only. As you can see, the family area is the largest one. Wide streets between the buildings, people would feel like they were walking through a park and much space at the beach."

"Looks good. But what of the buildings that are already there?"

"Can't you see, silly girl?" Erik asked amused, "The main buildings are still standing, like this variety, the warehouses, the main restaurants and cafe's and the important shops, Even most of the fun-rides. Only the use of these buildings is slightly changed. Of course some buildings would have to go, but I planned not to build everything new but use what is already there as much as possible. I prefer to save whatever I find instead of destroying it, no matter I think the architecture is... uncultivated. But this does not matter, a theme park does not have to be to the liking of the owner but to the liking of the customers and most customers here on Coney Island seem to like what they see."

"Sounds great," Meg replied, "But... this is just a dream, isn't it? You would need so much money, and as you know we still owe Mr. Singer money. What do we have except debts?"

Erik sighed. "That is the problem I am working on right now. I would need the owners of the land and the tenants who run the business to cooperate and accept my plans. By now I have a minority of Mr. Singer's company and Mr. Meyer agreed on a cooperation, but that's all. The rest... well, they do not like me. They just see the mask and refuse to take me serious, thinking I'm just another circus freak, too far beneath them to be reckoned with."

"And... the Boss?"

"Bruno Riccy is only interested in his money. As long as he gets what he wants he wouldn't be in my way - only that he gave strict orders to me that I have to do it legally. He won't allow me any... creative methods of persuading the others to either cooperate or sell their landed property to me."

Meg laughed out loudly. "A criminal blackmailing another criminal into doing business legally. This is just too funny!"

Erik grinned too. "Would be much more fun if I were not at the receiving end of the beating, should I disobey." He sighed. "This did not turn out as planned - I had hoped to become one of Riccy's enforcers and learn his ways and get to know the right people, but... he decided I'm too dangerous so he keeps me away from any interesting information and gave strict orders that I am only to do legal business. I need another approach to... well, I'm not sure how to say it... replace him."

Meg's eyes grew wide. "So you plan to become the new boss? Why?"

"Because no one can enslave and abuse me then," he replied, "And I would be in the position to protect... those I care for."

They looked at each other. Meg could see the brown eyes behind his mask, the right one being smaller than the left one. Those were not the eyes of a monster but of a man, he looked so... normal with his mask and fully dressed. She was not afraid of him that moment, on the contrary, being who he was and certainly dangerous she felt - safe. The monster was not hunting her, it was fighting to protect her and that gave her the most comfortable sense of security.

* * *

A knock at the door startled them.

"Erik? Are you there? I can't find Meg..." came Antoinette's distraught voice through the wooden door.

"Hide," Erik whispered and opened one of the caskets they used on stage, Meg swiftly climbed inside. Then he opened the door and looked at a very distressed Antoinette.

"My daughter... I can't find her. Have you seen Meg?" she asked, crying.

"Um... no, but I can help you searching for her," Erik replied, loud enough for Meg to hear him. She would understand that as soon as Erik had led her mother away she better hurried to the dormitories where her mother would 'find' her after a few minutes. Antoinette mustn't know what they had done - she was Meg's mother and would certainly disapprove of certain activities.

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 _A rather long chapter, but since the 26.10. is a holiday in Austria the next chapter will be up on Friday. So this one is a bit longer, maybe this compensates for the longer wait for the next chapter..._

 _Please review!_


	20. Setback

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Setback**

Spring came and with it much hard work for all of them to prepare the new shows. Mr. Singer returned from his trip to his family - again to the surprise of some, especially of the Giry's, who couldn't understand that Erik had not disposed of him by that time - and was pleased to find everything running smoothly. He was not so pleased when he learned of the deal Erik tried to make with Mr. Meyer and the cooperation - why should he cooperate with his competitor and leave the most profitable business - the late night shows for male audience only - to him?

It was a rather cold evening at the end of March. Meg missed Erik at the dinner in the canteen - usually he enjoyed a hot soup after a long day in his cold workshop. The mechanical wolf didn't work as it should and Erik had trouble creating a belly that could be opened without cutting it and would be flexible enough to allow two women to stay inside for at least a few minutes. She decided to go to him and tell him that if he wanted his food hot he should come to the canteen now.

To her surprise she found the door of the workshop unlocked. Cautiously she opened it and saw Erik sitting at his desk, his arms folded on the desk, his masked face buried in his arms. He was crying.

"Erik?" Meg asked, keeping her distance. She knew he could react violently when he was startled.

It had been a good idea to keep distance because so she was able to duck and avoided being hit by the screwdriver he threw before he even realized who the intruder was. When he noticed he paled visibly, jumped to his feet and immediately asked if she was hurt. Meg shook her head, she was not as shocked as he was.

"And you are really unharmed?" Erik asked worriedly.

"It seems you are in a much worse state than I am," she replied.

"I... didn't want anyone to see me like this," he mumbled embarrassed.

"There is no need for you to shoulder every burden alone," the blonde woman said gently, "Tell me what ails you."

"O Meg... Thanks for the offer, but I do not think you can help. Better leave me alone," he replied and sat down again, resting his elbows at the desk and his head in his hands. He looked so forlorn. She went to him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. His muscles were tense, but she knew that he was always tensed up to a point where everyone else would be unable to move because of the pain.

"Tell me what happened," she said, bracing herself for what was to come.

He sighed. "They... did it behind my back. It was my idea, my plan, my... and they... just stole it."

"Who?" Meg asked, a sudden feeling of dread.

"Mr. Singer and Mr. Meyer," Erik sighed, "You know that I had plans for a cooperation rather than a competitive battle. My idea was that we would swap shares so that both companies would be owned by three shareholders."

"Yes, you told me."

"And now... Mr. Singer went directly to Mr. Meyer and revoked all negotiations but the two of them obviously came to an agreement and left me out in the cold," Erik ran his hands over his head, letting the wig fall to the ground. "They will cooperate in the way I intended them to do - and I am a mere employee to execute their orders. I am to do the work and they get the money."

"Not all of the money, you are shareholder..."

"Ha! This year I can maybe pay back my debt, and then four more years to pay your's and your mother's," Erik replied bitterly, "And in five years I can start earning money. But I will still be just a pawn of these cretins!" He picked up some tool and threw it at the wall with a loud bang. "I'm just glad I showed no one but you my other plans - they would reject them only to steal my ideas!"

"O no..." Meg clasped her hand before her lips, "That is... terrible."

He barked a bitter laugh and ran both hands over his bald head. "I was so stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I should have known that they would never accept me as equal! To them I am just a... well trained freak to do my tricks and fill their pockets! And I'm sure they feel justified because I ought to be grateful to sleep in a bed each night and get healthy food..." He trailed off, rubbing his neck. It was obvious that he was very upset.

"It is a setback, true, but... you are so very clever, you will come up with a new scheme," Meg tried to comfort him.

He turned to look at her and suddenly the coldness in his dark eyes made her shudder. His eyes reminded her of a shark. She had seen a painting of a shark and the sharks black eyes - the eyes had no white, they were two black voids. "That I did," he replied, "It did not help much."

"Erik... what have you done?" Meg asked with a sense of dread. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know, remembering the horrible deeds of the Phantom.

Erik shrugged and went through the drawers to take out a cigar, lit it and drew in the smoke before releasing it again. Meg winced. She hated seeing him smoke, a bad habit he had somehow picked up from Mr. Singer. He paced the room as he asked: "Did you hear that Mr. Meyer unfortunately died?"

"No..." Meg whispered and sat down at the couch, glancing at the door to check if it was properly bolted. Yes, she had done it herself before she had approached Erik. The windows were shut, even the wooden shutters. Erik always worked with the shutters closed since the workshop was ground-floor and he didn't want to risk anyone seeing the secrets of his magicians tools.

"Not? Well, he wasn't important enough to get a notice in the newspapers. One more murder in Coney Island. Did you know how many people disappear or die a violent death in New Your these days?"

"I don't really want to know..." Meg whispered, shuddering. She didn't dare ask Erik if he murdered Mr. Meyer - it was entirely possible.

Erik chuckled grimly. "I don't know either," he remarked, "But, well... his widow inherited everything. The enterprise and the building and the land on which it is located. She wanted to sell it, of course, and each businessman tried to swindle her. I went to her and asked what they were offering. Well, went to her is a bit... um... not true. It wasn't easy to get to her anyways," He gestured to his mask as if this would explain everything. "Well, when I offered a reasonable price she said I was one hundred dollars above the sum the expert her lawyer had asked told her. My offer seemed to be at least trice as high as the others... so, mask or no mask, she accepted. I managed to get a loan from the bank to purchase the theater."

"You did? Then why are we still here if you have your own theater?"

"That is... well, the problem. Yes. I told Mr. Singer that he would have to deal with me now for Mr. Meyer is dead and I bought the theater. Well, I guess he soon found out that it really belongs more to the bank than me, you see, it was a hypothecary credit... but I digress... He said I had no choice but to rent out the building to his company because according to my damned contract I am not allowed to work for anyone but Mr. Singer and even prevented from working self-employed. It is like fighting with both hands and feet shackled - I'm trapped."

"But... he will pay rent?"

"O yes, he will, but not enough..." Erik sighed and put out his cigar nervously, "You see - I calculated that with the theater I might earn enough to pay back the loan. But with only the rent..." He spread his arms, indicating that it would not be enough.

"O no. So you are losing the building as soon as the first installments are due," Meg gasped in shock.

"And as if these were not enough problems, I met Bruno Riccy who suspects me of killing Mr. Meyer. I told him that I did no such thing and would have preferred Mr. Meyer alive and well - don't laugh in that moment this was the truth, I swear! - and he... well, he told me that he's not the prosecutor so he does not care if I killed Meyer or not. He only cares that the 'insurance' for that theater is tripled for the first year and if he does not have any troubles collecting it, it will be as much as it was before the next year," Erik explained, his speech becoming faster and faster until Meg had troubles following his words as he seemed to speak two words at once to get this out sooner.

Of course the masked man did not tell Meg how the Boss had gotten him to agree to pay instead of pulling another stunt like the last time. The threat had been too real - Riccy would have 'the blonde dancer' if Erik would not pay, threatening that his gang of thugs would enjoy her greatly - and Erik found himself unable to risk that for he knew this was no bluff. He had given away his fear the moment he reluctantly agreed to Riccy's demands, now that his weakness was known he would be the victim to further extortion and there was nothing he could do against it right now - and not in the near future either.

Erik took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back. As he continued to pace to and fro Meg saw that his fingers were constantly twitching, betraying his distress. "You don't know where I could get a good life-insurance soon?" he asked in a tone mixed of desperation and black humor. When Meg shook her head he sighed bitterly. "Pity. It would be the only way not to die deep in debt."

He continued to pace the room. "I'm trapped, Meg. I do not know how to get out of this mess - and I could kick myself for my stupidity not reading the contract before signing it. This damned contract is..." A series of curses followed, Meg understood only very few of them, but they were enough to make her blush. When Erik's impotent rage was spent enough to realize that he was not alone he too blushed. "I'm sorry. This is no way to speak in the presence of a lady," he apologized immediately.

"I don't mind that," Meg replied, "After all - do you know the language common stagehands use? One can't miss that during rehearsals."

Erik slumped in his chair. "What am I to do, Meg? I can't go back, I can't go right and I can't turn to the left either - all I can do is carry on with what I already begun, but... I don't like it."

"What do you mean, carry on?" Meg asked.

Erik got up and stood before her, his arms slightly spread. "Let me embrace you, my girl!" he demanded seriously. Such a sentence should not be spoken with such gravity, but right now he needed to hold her. Briefly he wondered how it would be like if it was Christine in his arms now and not Meg and shuddered at the mere thought. He didn't want Christine to know what had become of him, how deep he had fallen. And of course he would never ever be able to endure seeing his lovely Christine living in the dormitories or dancing and singing on a stage in flimsy costumes being stared at by lecherous men. With Meg it was easier. Meg was not such an angel, she was a girl, a nice girl, sometimes childish, sometimes she could bring him to white-hot rage and sometimes she could make him laugh, but since she was a woman and not an angel it was easier to endure seeing her brought low.

Erik was ashamed of this thought. Meg didn't deserve that from him. She had been at his side and decided to stay when he had offered freedom - she stood in his arms now despite what he had just told her.

"What are you going to do?" Meg whispered into the fabric of his jacket.

He tightened his embrace around her small body. "What I have to do. If Mr. Sam Singer is not willing to sell me at least another 21% of the shares so I have the majority he might regret this decision."

"Erik! Would you really kill him?" Meg asked horrified, suddenly struggling to get away from him, the thought that the hands that held her gently had just shed blood was too repulsive.

His arms only tightened around her. "Not if I can avoid it," Erik replied, "I have come to somehow like the old fat rat - I do not know why myself. But... if it is his life or mine, there is not much choice, is there?"

Erik rested his chin on the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her hair. She didn't have the money to buy perfume or perfumed soap so the scent was - just she herself. He had never had a good olfactory sense, on the contrary, when everyone complained about the smell he was always the last one to understand what was wrong. But now he found he could smell her and he liked her scent.

"Maybe not," Meg replied, "But if there is a way without murder - please, try that first before..."

"I promise," he breathed. Another promise. How many more would he break in his life? Well, he could at least try to talk Mr. Singer into selling some more shares so he would be in charge of the company as majority shareholder.

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 _Next chapter will be up next week - I guess Wednesday for Monday I want to upload my Halloween-Special._


	21. Under Pressure

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Under Pressure**

Erik did not have the time to prepare any elaborate scheme. He decided this time he had just one chance and that would be best used with brutal honesty. So he asked Mr. Singer for a meeting. Mr. Singer was not happy. He already mistrusted Erik and was convinced that Erik would come up with some entirely unacceptable idea.

Well, it was exactly that. Erik asked Mr. Singer to sell him the rest of his shares.

"No! You are clearly out of your mind, freak!" Mr. Singer snapped. Too late he realized that he was alone in his office with Erik and Erik was standing between him and the door.

"Mr. Singer," Erik replied politely trying to keep his temper in check, "Let me explain it to you in a way even you can't misunderstand: For the past three years I've been your slave. Now you can choose to either sell me your shares or be my enemy. I guess I must not inform you that being my enemy might prove to be fatal for your health."

"Like Mr. Meyer?" Sam Singer asked with much more bravado than he actually felt, he was pale, almost as white as snow, "Did you kill him?"

Erik shrugged. "You want to try your luck?"

"You want to cross the Boss?" Mr. Singer shot back.

"You think I'm just bluffing?" Erik replied calmly. He wondered himself how he could pretend to be so calm when inside he was fighting not only his own fear but also the terrible battle between the necessity to survive and the needle picks of his conscience, knowing he should better avoid more bloodshed.

"Even if I was willing so sell - you couldn't pay. What do you have except debts?"

Erik remained calm. "That's got nothing to do with you!"

"As long as you pay!" It would have sounded better had Mr. Singer not been shaking so much.

Erik sighed. He could not just kill Singer, that would get him nowhere for if Singer's family inherited his shares of the company, who knew what they might do - given that other businessmen were already furious because he had bought the other theater they would likely outbid him should he try to buy the shares from Mr. Singer's widow. And he could only bid what he could get as a loan from a bank. Of course he would have to lie to the banker and tell that he had no other debts. Then he would have to offer his shares - likely all of his shares, even those he already had in his possession, as security. Or maybe the building, but since the building belonged to the company it would be one and the same, wouldn't it?

"I'm a businessman, Mr. Singer, not a monster," Erik replied, "And of course I understand that you want a proper price for it. Think of it, Mr. Singer, you would have much time to see your family, wouldn't you? The money I would pay for your shares would be enough to allow you to retire, wouldn't it?" He paused, giving Singer time to think. "It is a fair deal, isn't it?" Erik added as an afterthought.

Mr. Singer gave this some thought. "Well... If you find someone who is stupid enough to actually give you a loan," he said thoughtfully, "Okay. But I will stay in the penthouse and I want a salary as consultant."

"Of course. I guess I can benefit from your expert knowledge and of course I can't be in two theaters at the same time. I would prefer to leave the adult shows in the other theater to you," Erik answered. He knew he needed the erotic and horror shows because they brought in much more than the others, but he hated them.

"If you provide the music, design and choreography, I'd be happy to do the rest..." Sam Singer replied thoughtfully, thinking of how much he could earn. He began to like the idea that Erik would take all of the risk and he would just have the comfortable position of a well-paid consultant.

"I'm sure," Erik groaned, "We just need to decide which theater we want for the family shows and which for the... others."

Sam Singer gave it some thought. "And if I do not agree - what are you going to do then?" he asked and crossed his arms, "Kill me?"

Erik gave a weary smile. "If I don't kill you to get your shares the Boss kills me - to be honest, what choice do I have now?" He thought of his plan to get close to Bruno Riccy which had failed terribly. Of course, Bruno Riccy had granted him some freedom - but of course not to cut short Riccy's income. So, what was he to do? Trying to take on Bruno Riccy and his gang of thugs or take it out on Sam Singer? If a cat has to decide to take on a pack of wolves or a single rat, what would it do? Pity the rat?

Sam Singer sighed. "I guess I have no choice now, do I? Well, here is my offer: A fair price for the shares. I get a fair fee as consultant plus I am the only one allowed to use the penthouse. If you agree to this, I think we might get to some... partnership."

* * *

Erik was not happy with this deal, but what choice did he have? His first problem was to find someone to finance that scheme. It had been easier with the other theater for no one had known of his other debts and there had been the building as security. Now it seemed the banks had informed each other that he already had a hypothecary credit. Erik was at a loss. What could he do now?

It was always the same: the first problem was entering a bank with his mask without them thinking he was a bank robber. He had long ago learned that it was easier to write and ask for a meeting, informing the banker that he would be wearing a mask because he suffered a severe defacement. It was humiliating, but the only way to avoid being mistaken for a bank robber. This was something he feared - how should he ever prove to any court that he was not a robber? If he went into a bank with his mask and would be arrested there, there was no way to prove that he had certainly not intended any crime at all. He would be stupid to do so - robbery had always been something he disliked for there was a really high risk involved. So even getting an appointment with a banker was quite difficult, usually he preferred to met the banker outside the bank. In this case it was rather easy - his office. At Meyer's theater he had met the banker at the theater, which was convenient for the banker needed to see the building anyways to decide if it was worth enough to serve as security. And this would be rather the same - only that it was hard to find any banker who would agree.

It was May before Erik finally had found a banker who agreed to see the building, see the books and consider a loan. The banker was not surprised, he had seen the show and knew Erik as the masked magician. He was just surprised to learn that the mask was not just some fancy costume but a necessity.

Erik did his best to present himself as a competent manager of the theater - now two theaters - and just taking over the business from Mr. Singer. Mr. Sam Singer was there and enjoyed the show he secretly had called "a freak playing businessman". Erik knew of this and it made his blood boil - but what could he possibly do now? He had to present himself as businessman if he wanted to be accepted, but it was hard to do so under the constant sneering of Mr. Singer who enjoyed this very much.

Erik gave the banker a full tour of both theater buildings and explained what shows they currently ran. He provided the books, his expectations for the future and whatever he could answer.

When they finally sat in the office together, Erik, the banker and Mr. Singer, the banker leaned back in his chair, stipled his fingers and looked at Erik through his thick glasses. Somehow the smaller man managed to look down his nose to make sure Erik knew he was looking down at him. "Mr. Y, this all sounds quite interesting - but with the second theater mortgaged to the hilt and the interest you have to pay to that other bank you cannot afford a loan of this sum. You simply can't."

Erik felt as if the walls were closing in on him and he was falling at the same time. He had never suffered from vertigo, but right now he felt like he was falling down, falling and falling into a bottomless canyon and the walls were closing in above his head. This couldn't be! This could not happen!

"If you want my opinion," the banker went on matter of factly, "Sell your landed property. Maybe you find a buyer who would pay enough that you could pay back your debt. If not, you could find yourself an employment and ask if you could pay in monthly installments. The risk you are taking now is too high. I represent my bank here and I tell you that we can't give you any loan, not even a hypothecary credit for you will not be able to pay."

"No!" Erik couldn't stop himself from slamming his fist down on the desk, "I told you - **I can do this**!" He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers, trying to regain composure, but his mind was reeling from the blow he had just taken. What could he do now? Sell the theater he owned? He would most likely end up even deeper in debt than he had been before. It would be total defeat. It had been hard enough to get where he was now, if he had to start again burdened with even heavier debts he doubted he could ever do this. This was his chance - he had only one. The alternative was to be a lowly paid vaudeville magician forever, bound to do his master's bidding, even if that was humiliating and forcing him to display himself as freak again.

"I can do this," Erik said, "You see - I have much bigger plans than just two theaters. You see that Coney Island is horribly disorganized. Small parcels, brothels next to fun rides for kids, liquor stores and opium dens next to kiosks offering sweets for kids, fight clubs and horse racing courses next to hotels where people want to recline and find peace and quiet at the seaside and the beach." He took a deep breath and found he could not stop himself from presenting the arguments he had in his mind, hoping he could stop his babbling mouth before he would reveal that there was a hidden debt as well - he would have to pay Bruno Riccy. But of course he wouldn't tell the banker. "Wait here for a moment!"

Erik rushed to his workshop to fetch his plans. He was no city planner but he knew his plans were flawless. He placed them on the desk before the banker. "Here. This is how it will look in a few years," he stated self-confident, "And I will do this either with your bank or with another one, I don't care." He asked himself why he was displaying such self-confidence when it had taken him two months to even get a meeting. That in itself was a problem: He would of course get the shares and the profit from the day he paid on - he had calculated to be able to earn money from end of April at the latest. Now it was May and nothing was secured, he still had nothing but debts and was not even able to pay the interest. The first installment - principal and interest - was due in November. Left only five full months, if the contracts would be signed in May, which became more unlikely with every passing hour.

The banker sucked in a deep breath. "You'd need much money for this, don't you?" he stated, "If you hope to finance this with credits only you're guaranteed to face bankruptcy in two years at the latest."

"I don't..." Erik replied, clasping his hands behind his back to prevent them from shaking.

"Let me finish," the banker said and held up his hand, "This is an interesting business concept. I might find some investors who are prepared to take high risks."

"High risks - that means they expect a high income return," Erik answered. He understood where this was going - still not liking the concept but glad that there was a way out.

"Listen, I'll arrange a meeting with a lawyer. You need to sell your landed property to the company. Then you can sell shares and use the money from these sells to build up that... organized fairground or whatever you like to call it," the banker told him.

"I'm not buying shares just to sell them at the same time!" Erik snapped annoyed, "I want this as my own enterprise - I do not want any shareholders!"

"Then you would need credits from investors ready to take high risks - and they would expect dear interest," the banker informed him.

"I knew that," Erik replied, crossing his arms before his breast, "And I think this is a good idea. Please let me know when the meeting with that lawyer and the investors can be - the sooner the better."

* * *

When the banker had left, a rather worried Mr. Singer stood at Erik's side in the office. "Do you really think you can do this? I know the numbers - it is impossible. Even you can't do this. This looks like bankruptcy fraud to me and you are the one to take the blame in the end. Years in jail, I'm sure. Now you still have time to reconsider."

"What's it to you?" Erik snapped, angrily pushing Mr. Singer aside, "You get your money and can do whatever you like afterwards. Stay as consultant or leave to live with your family, I don't care. Now get out of my way, I have only ten minutes left to prepare for my first show today! God, I'm snowed under with work, I don't have time for your prattling."

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	22. the Weight on His Shoulders

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **the Weight on His Shoulders**

The banker did his best, knowing he would get provisions from Erik for finding investors - and he did. He found rich men who could afford to lose impressive sums in gambling, for that was what they thought they were doing. Not one of them really saw this as actual investment in an enterprise that had even the slightest hopes of surviving the first three to five years, they could have bet in a horse race, the chance to get their money back was deemed equally low as in a horse race. But this proved to be more fun. Again Erik was just considered a circus freak who would amuse the audience and these men had decided to amuse themselves seeing him struggle and fail.

Their plan was easy enough - he should build up that amusement park, then he would fail and declare bankruptcy. The amusement park would be for sell and they could form a bidding consortium, buying the finished park for peanuts. That would be their real investment - they hoped to get the finished park and leave the risk to him. Their risk was quite low in fact: The interest he would have to pay in those three years until he would finally fail would be almost as much as the sum they gave him, he had finally had to agree to pay 25% interest each year. But since it was just interest, he would have to pay the same sum again - and, of course, fail. Leave the freak to build everything up and get it going - then send him to jail for bankruptcy fraud and get the finished product. A nice idea, of course there was a risk, but the freak wouldn't be able to take the landed property and run away with it. The risk was calculable.

Erik knew perfectly well that they expected him to fail for he knew he could never possibly hope to earn enough to pay even the interest with two theaters, the fun-rides he wanted to keep and the exhibition halls he planned to turn the old warehouses into. The restaurants, shops, cafe's, bars and the hotels would be run by tenants for Erik didn't even know what was necessary to run such enterprises. Of course there was the darker area of his park - it began with the tunnels of horrors he planned to put up - some of them designed as combination of fun-ride and tunnel of horrors. Behind that there would be a brothel disguised as hotel with a bar. An opium den disguised as a cheap bar and of course a hidden cellar for illegal gambling. This was were the money was really made, wasn't it? What Erik could not bring himself to include in his design was the pit-fights. He could live with two men killing each other to amuse the audience but he felt compassion for the animals - dogs, cocks or anything else cruel people would sacrifice to fill their pockets - and could not bring himself to include this sort of business. He just couldn't, so he better left that sort of enterprise to men without such a tender conscience as his.

Erik was rather surprised how eagerly the landowners sold him their property - he had counted on them trying to bargain for higher prices much longer. He was suspicious that someone was playing a foul play with him - but he could do nothing now. He felt like he was on a train on the railway and it had already gathered high speed, it could not be stopped just then and there, he could just go on.

Finding workers was easy. Each day masses of immigrants from all over the world arrived in New York and most of them had nothing and were so desperate to get a job - any job at all - they could easily be persuaded to work for starvation wages. They would sign any contracts, unable to read properly even in their own language, not understanding English - they were easy prey to someone who was willing to exploit them. If one of these laborers would disobey or complain about anything he could just dismiss him - there were at least five other men desperately waiting for a job. In the beginning Erik felt genuinely sorry for what he did, knowing all too well what these men were going through right now, but what could he do? He had to count every penny. He just had to exploit them, knowing fully well he was doing wrong, but he didn't have any choice. The first year he would just pay the interest for the credit his investors had given him - but that was 25% and these 25% couldn't be earned with the two theaters alone. Not even with the rent for the shops, restaurants and cafes - and the not so legal enterprises - in time.

Especially because the amusement park wasn't finished. Erik felt like a surgeon operating on a living organism. He had to prevent from cutting into the vital organs, but he had to cut the dirt out - and at the same time repair, re-design and renovate. He wanted to keep much intact, at the same time changing many buildings and all that without disturbing the customers who came to the buildings which were open for business. It was an impossible task considering he had to be on stage for at least one magic show each day and up to three shows a day at weekends.

At the end of May Erik was just coming back from one of the renovation projects - and still wondering when he could sign the last twelve contracts to purchase the rest of the land he needed, but he had the pre-contracts secured - he saw a small crowd gathering round some vehicle. He had been deep in thought about how to hide the opium den and the illegal casino and come up with a plan to build well-hidden cellars beneath the cafe's that would mask these enterprises. But building a cellar on Coney Island so close to the sea was quite difficult for he could as well be building in a lake. There was water everywhere. But he was the man who had been able to build in a secret home in an underground lake without his possessions becoming mildewed, he would use the same technique with double walls and lots of bitumen as in the Opera House in Paris. Should God decide to send a second Flood - Erik's cellars would seal up and stay dry. At least that was what he had managed to convince his investors.

He noticed a certain blonde in an orange dress standing in the crowd that were mostly his workers! "Hey! I'm not paying you to gawk - back to work! You won't get paid for today for this, if you want to be in my employ tomorrow you'd better go back to work!" he scolded them, secretly happy to have found a way to save much of today's wages and at the same time feeling slightly guilty for what he was doing to them. He was worse than Singer, Singer hat at least offered him a bed and enough food - luxuries these men didn't have. They lived in a rundown shack, sleeping on the floor that was covered with sand and straw and they did not have the luxury of two healthy meals a day.

As the men hurried off Erik saw what it was exactly they had been staring at - Bruno Riccy in his new automobile. And he was flirting with Meg!

"Signore Riccy," Erik greeted and tipped his hat, but he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

"A, Mr. Y, my friend. I just came here to see the work beginning - and I must say I'm astonished at what you achieved in just one week," Bruno Riccy replied friendly.

Erik managed to smile and gave a small bow. "Thank you," he answered, finally smoothing his voice, "I'd love to give you a tour, but I have to get back to the variety - as has my lead dancer."

"The lovely Miss Giry, it was such a pleasure to meet you," the Italian said and kissed Meg's hand, "Maybe I can invite you to a tour in my new automobile another time?"

"That would be most kind," Meg beamed, genuinely interested in the automobile - a carriage without horses - and not knowing who she was talking to.

"We mustn't overstrain Signor Riccy's generosity," Erik told Meg and grabbed her arm, with the other hand tipping his hat he bowed his head and addressed the Italian: "Signore, it was a pleasure to meet you, as always. Unfortunately we have to go back to work - the show, you understand?"

* * *

"That wasn't nice, Erik," Meg complained as they walked back to the variety side by side, "I've never seen a carriage without horses."

"That's just an automobile," Erik snorted, "And not even a good one. Sir Isaak Newton knew how to build one with a steam engine in 1680, so it isn't really something new, is it?"

"But that looks..."

"O Meg, this is just an automobile. Expensive and ineffective. There are three kinds of these horseless carriages: the ones with steam engines, the ones with electric motors and the ones with gasoline engines. Not one of them can drive faster than about 12 kilometers per hour, which is as fast as a horse in a lazy trod, and after two hours you need to refill whatever energy they use. A horse can run faster and much longer. But of course people prefer machines, even if they are ineffective and much more expensive than horses," Erik lectured, wondering himself why he was telling her - Meg surely wasn't interested in history and looked rather bored.

"The first automobile with electric motor was build in 1830 - so I really do not know why you are so impressed by that automobile. Like most people Riccy prefers the electric engine, even if it takes much longer to recharge, but then, gasoline stinks and is not easily purchased either, and it is a high risk for it is easily inflammable - I wouldn't want a large barrel of it in my house," Erik finished his lecture. Meg still didn't look like she was impressed by his knowledge. Erik stopped and looked at her. "And I forbid you to even talk to Bruno Riccy - he's the one they call 'the Boss' and so he's absolutely bad sort!"

"O," Meg replied, "I didn't know that." She didn't say that there were more than enough people who would call Erik absolutely bad company.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _TO BE CONTINUED_

 _(on Monday)_

 _Yes, I did some research on the history of automobiles - in 1905 of course it was rare to see an automobile but they were known by and large. Again sorry, Mr. ALW, when everyone is so astonished about the horseless carriage in LND - well, most of the journalists might admire the design but they would recognize it immediately as a automobile with electric engine. ;-P_

 _By the way, in my story we are still in the 1880's... but even then automobiles were seldom seen but not entirely uncommon or unknown... and electric engines were preferred to gas engines at that time!_

 _Have a nice weekend and please leave a review! :-)_


	23. the Weight on His Shoulders (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **the Weight on His Shoulders (cont.)**

When they came back to the variety, Erik headed towards his workshop, Meg following him. He went directly to his couch and fell down on it, not caring what Meg would say seeing him inelegantly sprawled out on the dusty old couch in a half-sitting half-lying position on his back. Meg locked the door behind them.

"For three days I didn't even have the slightest chance to get out of my shoes," he groaned and pushed off his hat and wig, letting them just fall where they would.

"Don't you dare taking them off now!" Meg warned him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Erik ran his hands over his masked face. "No, I know that you suffer from an upset stomach already," he groaned and managed to smile weakly, allowed his head to fall back against the backrest of the couch, his eyes closing despite his effort to keep them open. Three days and two nights without sleep, barely even sitting down. His body was drained, he needed rest. He didn't even think of climbing the stairs to the dormitory - he would sleep here in the workshop in the ground floor despite the noise from the other workshops like the sewing machine from the costume department or the noise from the laundry.

"I got another letter from Christine," Meg said, twisting her gloves in her hands. This got Erik's attention enough to snap open his eyes partially. He briefly wondered why Meg was so nervous about that - he already knew about the letters and his only request was that she told him what Christine wrote to her. "She's excited to learn that both our babies are due in September."

Erik bolted upright. "What?" he exclaimed.

"Well... my baby and Christine's second child are both due in September," Meg replied.

"A child? How?" Erik asked, not sure if he was already asleep and this was just some bad dream.

"How? Maybe you remember Christmas..." Meg trailed off, then cleared her throat, "So - it is the fifth month and even with the He-She's clever design for my dress I can't conceal it any longer."

"Wait a minute. The He-She already knows? Who else?"

"Dr. Gargle... no! Gange... Gangle... You know, Giant Joe!"

"It is German. Pronounced Dr. Johann Gängelmann. Gängelmann," Erik heard himself reply, he could have slapped himself for his stupidity. Meg was telling him that she was pregnant and he was most likely the father and he had nothing to say but to correct her pronouncing the German name? 'Come on, think!' he silently berated himself, 'Say something to her - she clearly came to me for support!'

"Who is the father?" Erik asked and at the same time groaned in frustration. Nonononono! He was making this only worse! Well done, genius...

"You are really tired," Meg sucked in a breath and hissed it out again, trying not to let her anger show. "You, of course, you stupid, rude idiot! Unlike you I have been faithful to you since our first... being together."

"I'm sorry," Erik replied, "I really haven't slept in three days, my brain feels fuzzy."

"Fuzzy?"

"What did you just say?" He really had trouble staying awake now.

"I'm with child, Erik, it is due in September and you are the father. What are we going to do now?" she stated in a business like tone.

Erik pushed himself to his feet with some difficulty, pacing the room, trying to concentrate in the task at hand. It took some time until her words fully sank in and he understood the importance of the situation. He couldn't suppress a shudder, then he felt panic raise in his chest. His pace became faster, his breathing erratic as he felt cold sweat on his back and all of his muscles clenched at once, causing him to tremble uncontrollably. "We can't have a child now," he muttered, his teeth chattering despite the warmth of the room, "We just **can't**! You **can't** be pregnant!"

"As it is, Erik, I am - if you like it or not," Meg snapped and crossed her arms before her breast.

"No, you don't understand - you cannot be pregnant! I need you on stage, already I am so deep in debt I guess I'm going to jail for bankruptcy fraud next year at the latest. Everything is falling apart, it is already end of May and I have not made one Cent and I should have thousands of dollars... My calculations were far too optimistic, I'll never make it, I'll lose everything and I have no idea how to survive the winter - and now you come here and tell me that I should provide for a baby too! I just can't!" He shuddered, as he went on, his speech becoming faster and faster in his panic, "The only way out of this financial disaster is that I commit crimes to get the money I need to buy myself one more year - each year I can survive is a good year, do you understand that? Already I have so much work, I don't even know where to begin - I should manage two theaters, I should renovate the buildings, take down others, build new ones, re-decorate the fun-rides and design some knew attraction that really draws in the crowds and at the same time compose, write, design, play the piano and do magic shows. And now you come here and ask me to care for a baby too - how am I to do that, pray tell?"

"I am the one who is pregnant, not you!" Meg yelled at him, "Stop pitying yourself and man up!"

He ran both hands over his nearly bald head and grabbed some of the few strains of greyish-white hair he had, absently pulling out hair in a gesture of utter despair. "Meg, I don't know how to survive the next day. We... need to end this. Permanently. We can't have a child. Dr. Gängelmann will understand, he's a good doctor and knows what to do..."

"No!" Meg yelled and slapped him so hard his head jerked with the blow. The second blow caused him to stumble and he would have fallen had he not been able to hold onto his desk to steady himself. "I won't allow you to murder my baby!"

"Be reasonable, Meg. How are we supposed to raise a baby? We don't even have one room for ourselves..."

"Would you murder your own child?" Meg spat angrily.

"Of course," Erik replied far too quick for Meg's taste, "and I would really regret having to kill you to get rid of the little parasite."

"Parasite?" Meg gasped in shock.

"That's what children are, aren't they? Nasty parasites, infesting your body, twisting your soul to turn you into their slaves. They suck every last ounce out of you and leave you a drained shell to die in the gutter - and worst of all you love them for it," Erik couldn't believe he was actually saying this and worst of all to a woman pregnant with his child!

Meg paled. "I hate you," she whispered, "You are the most egoistical monster that ever soiled the earth!"

"Meg... no. I didn't mean it," Erik tried to apologize, "I am not myself. It is all too much... far too much. I don't know what came over me... please..." He grabbed her arm to prevent her from leaving the room. "I didn't mean it like that. I just... if you want to keep the child, I'm... helpless. What if it is deformed like me? How can we provide for it? How can we raise it? Please, Meg, don't say no without... considering the alternatives. The consequences."

"I can't murder my own child," Meg replied firmly, "No matter the consequences. And if you are not man enough to help me raise it I will do it alone."

"How?" Erik asked helpless, "You have nothing as well."

"I'll manage. And if I have to accept 'private calls' to get some extra money. There are other dancers in the dormitories who do so and can provide for their child to grow up in a residental school. There is no reason why I can't. And you... you can go on wallowing in self-pity and bewailing your cruel fate. But don't you dare come to me later and tell me you are o so very lonely! No, Monsieur, you can never expect any pity from me again!" Meg was breathing heavily as she was done yelling at him.

Erik grew very quiet. She had a point, he couldn't deny this. He had always wanted a family, a normal family, a wife he could love, but he had never dared to think of children, scared they would inherit his looks. Here was his chance - he could have a family now. "I don't want to leave you alone in this world with a deformed child," he whispered, "I'm scared, don't you see? I am terribly scared for right now it looks like I'm going to end up in jail in two years at the latest, maybe even the next December. You would be alone with a deformed child. And if I have to flee this country, how are we going to do this with a baby? We barely made it out of France, with a baby we'd never make it!"

"I know. If you have to flee you have to do it alone. As I said, I can raise it alone."

Erik set his jaw and raised his head. "You don't have to. I don't know how, but I'll find a way." He had spoken this firmly and full of determination, but he couldn't keep his posture. He had to sit down again as his knees suddenly gave way. "It is all too much for me," he confessed, silently crying, "Far too much for me."

"You are not alone," Meg replied.

"Yes... I'd never dare facing your mother alone with the news!" he smirked, trying to laugh despite everything.

"Yes, now **that** really is something we ought to be afraid of," Meg replied grinning, wondering how Erik managed to make a joke to lift her spirits when he looked like he was about to faint. He couldn't even stand on his feet now, he just barely managed to keep his eyes open. "Maybe we should sleep over it," she suggested.

"Sleep sounds good..." he mumbled, but Meg wasn't sure if he would recall it the next day for he was already asleep.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Erik is in a terrible situation so it is a shock for him to learn that he is going to be a father - he has no idea how to provide for a child now._


	24. Even More Trouble

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Even More Trouble**

Erik was close to breaking down under the workload, but what could he do? He hated to have to replace Meg as his prime assistant, but with her unable to conceal her pregnancy any longer there was no way she could be on stage now.

Which brought up the next problem - how to tell her mother. Of course Madame Giry had at first wondered why Meg suddenly lost weight but Meg had explained it with an upset stomach, which explained her sudden reluctance to eat anything sweet and a strange taste for meat. Usually Meg had a sweet tooth and was not very fond of meat - but now she wanted nothing but meat, any kinds of meat, as much as possible. As often as Antoinette asked her daughter if she was pregnant - as her mother living in the same dormitory she couldn't miss the change in her daughter, especially as she began growing a belly in April - Meg denied it. But now, beginning of June, there was no way denying it any longer.

So when Meg asked her mother if they could have a talk in private Antoinette was not really surprised. She knew Meg was pregnant and was still wondering how this was possible - she had been so very careful protecting her from lecherous patrons, she had made sure Meg had never visited the men's dormitory and no man had ever been with her. So how could Meg possibly get pregnant?

They were in Erik's office, Erik sitting behind his desk, busy with paperwork. He had to do the paperwork in the morning when he was still fresh and able to concentrate - in the evening he could only do things that didn't need so much thinking. Antoinette sat at the couch and Meg at a chair on the other side of the room. Neither of them spoke.

"You wanted to tell me something?" Antoinette asked finally, clutching her walking cane, one eyebrow raised, her lips thin, the perfect picture of disapproval.

Meg looked to Erik. He glanced at her over some papers, then ducked down slightly and hid behind a large folder, pretending to read.

"Say something!" Meg demanded.

"A yes... about the Little Red Riding Hood show. Did you know that the audience loves the mechanic wolf best? At first I thought I turn one of the warehouses in an exotic zoo but now I think an exhibition of fancy mechanic automatons would be much more attractive. And of course an automaton does not need so much care like a living animal. I'd call that "Hall of Wonders". What do you think of my plan for the "Hall of Wonders"?" Erik asked, avoiding the real reason for the meeting.

"Yes, sounds good. But surely this is nothing Meg wanted to tell us in private?" Antoinette replied, still not guessing that Erik already knew and was not on her side but on Meg's in this. Antoinette had expected Erik to be upset because of Meg's pregnancy and that he too wondered who the father might be. She would never have guessed that her daughter would ever consider Erik as a partner.

"Meg?" Erik said a bit helplessly, still hiding behind his folder, "What do you want to tell us?"

"O you insufferable coward!" Meg snapped furiously, "And I will say nothing at all! You are to blame and you alone!"

"Alone? Hardly!" Erik shot back annoyed.

"Stop it!" Antoinette ordered in a voice that left no option for any defiance, "Meg, I'm asking you the last time and hope you are telling the truth now: Are you with child?"

Meg nodded, blushing.

"Since when? Who is the father?" her mother inquired "How did it happen? If some blackguard raped you, I'll wring his neck and hang him up on his..."

Meg and Erik stared at Antoinette, they could barely believe their ears. Had she really just said what they had heard? Erik flinched at the thought, for he knew that Antoinette was protecting her daughter like a lioness her cub and he wouldn't put it past her to do precisely what she had just said she would.

"It was consensual," Meg confessed, "When you were looking for me at Christmas."

"I knew it!" Antoinette yelled, "Who is that worthless bastard who defiled you? I'll make him pay for this! He'll beg me to end his misery on his knees when I'm done with him."

Erik wondered if Antoinette had just learned these dark threats from him or if she really considered torture. A mother protecting her child - well, it was entirely possible she was serious.

"Erik, why don't you say anything?" Antoinette asked, suddenly suspicious. She had guessed Erik would be terribly angry now and demand answers. Why was he just reading his folder as if all of this was not his business?

The masked man put the folder down, but held it with both hands, he just needed something to hold on to now. "Eeeehm..." He mumbled, not knowing what to say.

"No!" Madame Giry clasped her hand before her mouth as she finally could guess the truth, then a red-hot wave of pure fury seized her, she jumped to her feet and rushed to Erik, ready to break his skull with her cane quite literally. "You irresponsible felon! I'll kill you!"

She really tried to hit him over the head with her cane, but he was much faster than her, he just jumped over the desk and grabbed the cane, taking it from her. She attacked him with her bare hands, trying to scratch him with her fingernails, but he grabbed her wrists and held her. He had not counted on her fighting on, she pushed her head forward and hit his nose with her forehead. He gasped, but did not back away as the sudden impact brought tears to his eyes and send blood running from his nose. He could only hope it was not broken. "I **trusted** you!" she spat at him "I trusted you! You promised to keep my child save! You filthy disgusting freak, **how dare you** defile my daughter like this? How dare you?"

"Antoinette... please, calm down, let me explain..." Erik tried to calm her, not daring to release her hands. He was not sure he would get a second chance seizing her.

It took some time until she was calm enough they could talk like sensible adults again. Antoinette sat down at the couch, Meg sat at the chair and Erik was standing, leaning against his desk.

"I am deeply disappointed in both of you," Antoinette said sternly, "Especially you, Erik. Is this how you keep a girl save? Defiling and impregnating her? What were you thinking?"

Erik shrugged helplessly. "I am deeply sorry, Antoinette. I am ready to take responsibility and..."

"Responsibility? Yes, I know your way of taking responsibility - running away to another continent. Where do you plan to go now? Africa? Australia? You seem to have used up all other continents!" the elder woman accused him.

Erik sighed. "You forgot South America and Antarctica, but that seems a rather inhospitable environment," he stated, wondering why such information just popped up in his brain even if he didn't want them. He felt like there was an internal library in his brain and some helpful brain-cell was just delivering every needed information even if it wasn't really appropriate to say that just then and there.

"I'm not interested in one of your lectures!" Antoinette snapped, "When will the wedding be?"

"Wedding? What wedding?" Meg and Erik asked dumbfounded.

"You said you are going to take responsibility. So either you get married as soon as possible or I go to the police and report a severe case of rape," Antoinette stated almost calm, but it was clear that under the calm facade she was boiling with anger.

Her words reminded Erik uncomfortably of his own way of dealing with trouble. "I never forced her!" he defended himself.

"That's true, Mama!" Meg confirmed his statement.

"Are you sure judge and jury will believe you?" Antoinette asked, "So, if you prefer the wedding to a court trial you better decide on a date and make it soon!"

"I do not think a young girl like Meg should be forced into a marriage with an old criminal like me, especially not... now. Not when I do what I have to do. Not now, you understand?" Erik said. Antoinette paled visibly.

Meg became suspicious. "What are you up to, Erik? Why don't you want to marry me? I'd accept your proposal, if you cared to make one."

Erik winced. This was what he had always dreamed of - having a wife, a family. But why now? Why now when he had neither the time nor the means for a family? This was the worst time by a mile to start a family. "Meg... I did not tell you, because I am ashamed of what I am doing now," he confessed, "I exploit those poor laborers in the worst way, but... in my defense, I do not have any choice. For some of them who are working at critical tasks I even have life insurances - and... well..." he spread his arms in a meaningful gesture, "accidents happen."

"O no! Tell me you are not planning to murder them!" Meg exclaimed in shock.

He lowered his head in shame. "I have to," he mumbled, "There is no other way to get enough to pay the interest in December, to pay the Boss, to buy the material I need to finish my Hall of Wonders during the winter and stage new shows in spring."

"And you called Singer a rat," Meg rebuked him, "You complained about him abusing and exploiting his employees - but what you do is... that is really scraping the barrel now!"

"I know!" Erik snapped, "But what can I do? You tell me, what can I possibly do now - that does not include all of us being killed by Riccy's thugs? Yes, I know I am committing a horrible crime and I am deeply ashamed, but there is no better option for me now. Now you know why I don't want a nice girl like you tying herself to an aging monster like me."

Meg got up and went to him, looking up to his masked face, blood was still dripping from his nose but he didn't seem to notice as he stood there, still leaning against the desk, his eyes lowered in shame and guilt. "Will you stop it?" she asked, "When you have a chance, will you stop being a monster preying on helpless men?"

"The sooner the better," he answered seriously.

"Then I will marry you."

His head shot up. "I didn't ask you..."

"You don't have to. I just wanted you to know that I will marry you, if you want to be a father to your child."

"Yes," he whispered, "I won't let you down. Not you and not... the baby, my baby."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _TO BE CONTINUED_


	25. Even More Trouble (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Even More Trouble (cont.)**

Once it was decided that they would get married Erik tried to get it over with as soon as possible. It was not easy for there was no priest, no cleric feeling responsible for fairground people. There was not even a proper church or chapel.

Erik turned to Mr. Singer - if he had to pay that rat an outrageous salary as consultant he could at least do something for his money. And answering where the next church might be surely wouldn't be too much to ask.

Mr. Singer sat on his balcony on in his penthouse on top of the variety and enjoyed the sun, smoking a cigar and having a drink. He grinned at Erik as he approached. "Welcome my friend!" Sam greeted him warmly, "Had I known how easy life would be after selling the theater I would have done that years ago!"

Erik merely grunted in annoyance, he hated to see the other man living a good life at his expense. The contract demanded that Singer would stay as consultant at least five years for a princely fee.

"What can I do for you today?" Sam asked and gestured for Erik to sit next to him on the wooden bench.

"I need a church or a chapel or something like that," Erik asked.

"Whatever for? O - let me guess, you are going to marry the blonde dancer! Congratulations!"

"Was it that obvious?" Erik asked embarrassed.

The rat-like man chuckled. "You bet. Except you and her mother everyone knew."

"Just answer my question!"

"Well... there are many churches in New York. Catholic or Protestant?"

"Catholic. Tell me, why isn't there even one single pastor on Coney Island? No one feels in charge of the fairground people!" Erik complained.

"Tell that to the bishop."

Erik made a mental note to write a letter to the bishop, demanding that fairground people wanted to have the same pastoral counseling as everybody else. Not that he himself cared much about that but he strongly disliked that they were treated differently than the rest of the populace.

* * *

Erik had to take the new train from Coney Island to go to the city and reach some chapel. He hated to have to go to the train station where many people waited for the train. Buying a ticket was hard enough for the man stared at his mask in shock and Erik wasn't sure if the man behind the ticket window would cry for help thinking he was intending robbery. Erik went to the station platform, his head bowed, trying to conceal his mask as much as possible with his hat. He could not wear a cloak that day, the weather was rather hot.

If he had hoped to stay aside and be ignored he was mistaken. He was recognized as the masked magician from the variety and suddenly found himself in the middle of a group of people who wanted to talk to him, children who wanted to see him, people asking him if he would show them a trick now - Erik couldn't understand anything for they were all talking at the same time, but there were far too many people too close to him now. He felt panic rise in his chest for he didn't know how they would react in the end and the prospect of having to be in the same wagon for an hour with them was frightening.

None of these people had any ill intentions towards him, on the contrary, they were excited meeting the masked magician in person for they loved his shows, but Erik would have preferred to run away now. As if he had time to run. He should be back there, working, but he had to arrange his marriage and he had to do it soon, it was June, the baby due in September, he had to make the notice of intended marriage because it would take three weeks until they would have the ceremony. Three weeks - that was end of June and Meg's condition would be all too visible then.

"That's very kind of you..." he answered to someone telling him how much his children loved his magic shows, "But - please, ladies and gentlemen, I am not on stage and I beg your indulgence that I cannot give you a show for free here on the platform or on the train. The railway company would sue me. I'm really sorry, I can't."

They accepted this, but Erik had to endure the children approaching him and asking endless questions he refused to answer, but he had to do it in a friendly way, always careful that he would not upset them or their parents. They were paying audience and of course he wanted them to come again.

"I like the wolf," a girl said, grinning and reaching out to Erik with sticky fingers. He managed to suppress a disgusted shudder, hoping his own child would never come to him with sticky fingers and a snotty nose. He considered telling her that the wolf was certainly not intended to be liked by anyone, but reconsidered.

"Would you like to see more automatons like the wolf?" he asked.

"O yes!" the girl was excited and suddenly Erik found himself surrounded by even more people. He felt the very strong urge to run.

"Well then..." he managed to answer with a friendly smile and a steady voice even if he felt his heart pounding in his throat, his stomach heaving and he could only hope he wouldn't soil himself in his panic. The crowd was friendly, they actually admired him, he repeated in his head again and again, trying to calm himself. Smile, he told himself, smile and be friendly, maybe they won't kill me then.

The train came and Erik was pushed inside a train car - third class of course, he could not buy expensive tickets - and was pushed to sit on one of the wooden benches, the crowd still around him so no conductor would ever be able to get to him. The stench of the railway car was horrible - so many people in the hot summer day, the stench of sweat and smoke from the steam engine was horrible and if that was not bad enough a horde of children was pushed towards him, all of them sticky and greasy with soot from the steam engine and most of them with snoot on their cheeks and hands.

Erik had a hard time to get out of that damned train car at the right station. He couldn't resist the urge to run any longer and somehow made it out of the station and a few streets away, hoping he would not be recognized immediately now. The only problem was that he had never been there and had to find his way to the church he had chosen. It was not easy. He had looked it up in a map but right now after the ordeal in the train he had completely forgotten where the church was. Was it the third or the fourth street to the left? Was it really left or had he mistaken the cardinal direction? Just where the hell was he now?

And he was of course not alone - the streets were full of carriages, horses and people, every now and then even a car. He turned round and noticed the stares from people who passed him. He couldn't determine if they were afraid of him, interested, mistook his intentions or if they hated him and considered using violence to remove him from their streets. Everything was possible but there were so many people he just could not even begin to sort out which ones might be friendly.

Erik stopped in a somewhat less frequented spot, taking a deep breath. A glass of water would be nice, but first he needed to find out where exactly he was and where the church was. He saw a beggar sitting at the ground, a half-empty bottle next to him.

"Excuse me," he addressed the beggar, "Can you tell me where the church is?"

"If you want to beg there, forget it. That is Irish territory when it comes to begging and pocket-picking," the beggar replied, his speech slurred by the alcohol.

Great. Even the beggar thought he was just another beggar or thief. Erik looked down on his clothing. The clothing was crumpled, covered with soot and he could only assume that the stench of sweat was as bad as everyone else's in these streets. The left leg of his trousers looked like he had somehow blotted himself. It must have happened in the train, he assumed. "No, I need to speak with the priest," Erik replied angrily.

"If you give me a coin, I tell you."

Erik searched his pockets, unsure if he had any money with him. He usually left the variety without a purse, knowing he could easily steal one. He found 'his' purse, but there was not much left after he had bought the ticket. Was it more important to get some tea-water or find the church? Never mind, he could always steal another purse. There were enough passers-by who would provide what he needed. He took out a coin and showed it to the beggar, who in turn told him that he had taken the wrong way - he had left the railway station at the wrong entrance and would have to go back now and at the other side of the railway station he would already see the church steeple.

The masked man considered keeping the coin, but when he looked down at the beggar he decided he could not swindle such a poor man. That man did not even posses a shirt. He had ragged trousers and a jacket, both so dirty Erik could not even guess the color these rags might have had. No shoes. No hat. Nothing. That beggar must have literally sold the clothes he wore. He could not swindle that man, not now. He gave him the coin, deciding to steal another purse for he just needed to buy a glass of tea-water.

* * *

Erik took off his hat as he entered the church, enjoying the cool air and the darkness there. It was quiet, really quiet. He had missed the cool darkness and the silence so much, experiencing it again was overwhelming. Far too long he had been bereft of that particular luxury.

Unfortunately he didn't have time to enjoy the silence, he had to find the priest and talk to him about the wedding. The priest was surprised when he saw Erik, but accepted Erik's explanation that the reason for the mask was that he was a fairground magician and the mask his trademark. Erik had to listen to a lengthy lecture from the priest as he confessed that the marriage was really urgent for the baby would be born in September. Erik endured the lecture, not listening. He surely did not care about that particular sin when he was already planning the next crimes - murder and insurance swindle. He almost laughed when he realized that he had used the time to work out the details of the accident that would kill the heavily insured workmen, he could stop himself just in time and hung his head in shame - that is, he hung his head and hoped the priest would mistake it for shame.

Finally he got the priest to agree to perform the wedding not in a church but in the theater in Coney Island early in the morning, before any customers would come. A small wedding without any guests, only the priest and, well, the family. The family would be Antoinette Giry of course and on Erik's side his best friends, the freaks he considered his family by now. It would be a fight to get Meg to agree to allow him to have Fat Suzie and Attamamma there, he knew she was jealous for a good reason. He should never have confessed his little adventures.

* * *

Going home would be another problem. There were so many people waiting at the train station, Erik was not sure he could endure that again. He knew he would never make it back to Coney Island on foot in time for the magic show, but he just could not bring himself to enter any overcrowded last-class-compartment in that damnable train again. He'd rather risk hours of forced march and a cancelled show.

He was just about to leave the church as another man entered - Bruno Riccy! What was he doing there?

The priest greeted Bruno Riccy with a friendly smile and a deep bow and thanked him for the generous donation for the orphanage.

Erik stood there, trying not to let on that he knew Signore Riccy, as the priest introduced them. "Signore Riccy, one of our most honorable community members. He finances the orphanage almost alone," the priest began, "Mister Riccy, this is Mr. Y, a new member of our community I hope?"

Erik bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying that he was certainly not interested in becoming a parishioner - and if, certainly not anywhere Riccy was called an honorable man. Riccy smiled friendly and extended a hand. "I had not known you were a man looking for the guidance of Church," he said as he and Erik shook hands, "Must be hard to live a life agreeable to God with a job like yours."

"I'm nothing but a humble stage performer," Erik replied smoothly, "And I'm afraid I have to head back to Coney Island immediately."

"May I offer to give you a ride?"

Erik was about to decline, but Riccy insisted and not wanting to give away how much he was scared of the other man he finally accepted. At least he would not have to take the train.

* * *

As they sat in the backseat of Riccy's fancy car Erik watched the driver: No danger there - the driver couldn't drive and fight at the same time. No other men, Riccy surely had weapons but in an open car in the streets in broad daylight in an area where Riccy had to protect his reputation?

"Signore, I'm grateful for the ride, but are you sure this is the right direction?" he said, preparing to jump out of the car any moment now.

"Don't worry, you'll reach the variety in time for your show. Do you see the weird man over there?" Riccy pointed with his walking cane. Made of ivory, Erik noticed with much envy. But after living in Coney Island for three years Erik could not see any man who looked other than perfectly normal to him. "Over there - brown suit, pink shirt, purple cravat, grey shoes!" Riccy snapped.

Erik looked at the man. "Maybe he's color-blind, what of it?" he shrugged.

Riccy stared at him briefly then laughed. "Color-blind! Ha! We've watched him for years and never found out why he dresses so tasteless!" The Italian became serious again and signaled the driver to drive faster - if possible. "Remember his face," he instructed Erik, "For I have need of your talents."

Erik gulped. He could assume what that meant and didn't like it. "Signore Riccy, maybe you finally decide on which side you want me to be - am I just another businessman whom you can extort at your whim or am I one of your... errr... trusted friends?" the masked man said, keeping his voice steady, "I'm fine with both sides, so I leave the decision to you."

The way Riccy stared at him coldly made Erik want to jump but he forced himself to relax and pretend to be calm.

"Maybe you asked yourself why the landowners agreed to sell their property so easily?" Riccy asked, making a point in speaking casually but never taking his sharp eyes from Erik, who stared back unblinking, "Consider yourself being one of my friends already - and it is I who granted you a favor already." Riccy broke the eye-contact first and settled back in his expensive leather seat. "Consider it a test," he said, "If this man has an unfortunate accident this year and dies or is permanently disabled to do his job as special prosecutor, then I will never ask one Cent of you."

Erik took in a sharp breath as he calculated quickly. He could let four or five men live, kill only seven or eight of the ones with the live insurances. Five. Five would live, he decided, he would kill as less as possible without endangering himself.

"Yes, sir," he replied as enthusiastic as he could manage.

* * *

When they were at Coney Island, the car suddenly stopped and Riccy yelled at the driver. "Batteries empty," Erik replied with a shrug, "What a pity - even if you find someone who has an electric generator you'll have to wait for hours until the batteries are recharged." He got out of the car and took off his hat with a deep bow. "Thank you for the ride. I'll walk the last few meters."

He walked away as fast as he could without running.

"Congratulations to your upcoming wedding!" Riccy called after him and Erik felt as if these words were a dagger in his back. He couldn't overlook the serious threat in the Italian's words.

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 _Thank you for reading! Please review!_

 _Next week my updating schedule will be a bit different. I won't be able to keep my Monday - Wednesday - Friday schedule and beg your indulgence. I think it will be Tuesday and Thursday, but I can't promise._


	26. Wedding

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Wedding**

Erik had hoped to be able to plan something for this rather hasty wedding, but it turned out that he had no time to do anything. He refused to have the wedding on the stage in the variety for this would make it a stage-show and profane the marriage itself, making it not really binding. This argument made Meg smile happily for she knew he took her seriously and was determined to make this work. Erik's suggestion was the office, but since the cleaning team refused to even open the door for whenever they did a bunch of papers fell into the corridor, Antoinette decided this was no option either despite Erik's protests he would tidy it up in time. She knew he would not.

It turned out that Erik had no time at all for even when he was eating he was constantly busy with something else. Irene informed Meg giggling that she would have to get used to Erik even working when he was in the bathtub or at the toilet, there was no way he would not sketch, plan, write or read, if there was nothing else he could do. There were many jokes running among the staff about the upcoming wedding, most of them beginning with "Poor Meg, her husband will..." Of course Meg was aware of that, Erik not, he had no time to listen to anything that was not important for his business scheme.

At the morning of his wedding day Erik was still working on plans for the energy source of his theme-park. He had decided to create a hall of wonders with automatons because he had seen how much people loved the mechanic wolf from the "little Red Riding Hood" Show. So if he would turn one of the former warehouses into a museum for technical marvels, people would eagerly pay the entrance fee to see the newest creations. But this would need much energy and he had decided that electric energy would be the cheapest way. 1866 Werner von Siemens, a German, had invented a generator engine that could be operated with water power if it was set up by a river or a waterfall. It would be operated in a similar way as any waterwheel, Erik knew the technique. There had been newspaper articles that a gigantic generator would be build by the Niagara Falls - Erik had never seen them, only read about them in a book - and people were discussing if this would be possible. But then, his park wouldn't need that much energy. A series of small generators operated with waterwheels would be enough. The tidal change would be enough to generate some electricity, large accumulator batteries would help evening out the ups and downs during the tidal changes. It could be working, of only he could find the money and the engineers to build it. The building that was to house the generators and batteries was not the problem, he knew how to build a dry building beneath the water level, but building this into the salt water of the sea was a whole new challenge.

He was sitting in the canteen, dressed only in his nightshirt and dressing gown for he had completely forgotten to get dressed, and was sketching various plans for the machines and the building. The building should be not only functional but good-looking so people would accept it as additional attraction of the park and not complain about an ugly building next to the beach where swimming would be allowed - for an entrance fee, of course. And the bathhouse would cost extra as would everything else there, like food, drinks, the lockers, correct swim-suits and of course the bathing area would be divided in one for men and one for women and one beach for all of them, which would of course be a scandal, no decent woman would go bathing when men could see her in her swimsuit, but maybe some not so decent girls would like to go to the beach. Erik had most dancers and all of the prostitutes in mind, why should he forbid them to go to the beach in daytime as long as they were back to work in the afternoon? And he would create his own personal beach, hidden behind painted wooden boards, by the pier. The pier could be used for passengers boarding smaller ships - large ships couldn't land there - which would be convenient for the suppliers of the not-so-legal goods for the opium den and the casino. He was absently chewing some bread and drinking his coffee. Lots of coffee.

"Erik?" Irene asked worriedly.

"Hmm?" he didn't even look up.

"Aren't you nervous?" she asked.

"Nervous? Why?" he briefly looked at her as he helped her climbing on a chair.

"Your wedding?" she reminded him.

He stared at her for a rather long moment. "My wedding? Why? What about my wedding?"

"Ahem - today?"

"To...today?" he dropped his pencil. "Are you sure? Today? When?"

"In only half an hour - you don't want to go there like this, do you?"

"No... o God, sorry, thanks for the warning...!" he jumped to his feet and hurried back to the dormitories.

"Do you think this is working out?" Irene asked the He-She who shook his/her head sadly.

"If he does not say 'generator room' at the altar, he has at least a chance to survive the ceremony," the He-She replied. Irene laughed.

Erik was so wrought up in his ideas he seldom realized who was in the room with him, so they already began to make fun of him asking him odd questions and wait for the answer he might give. He had already answered what he liked for breakfast "gasoline or electricity?" and what the soup tasted like "corrosion control" - but then, maybe the soup really tasted a bit metallic...

"Poor Meg, she could be dancing naked and he would not even notice," the cook smirked.

"That one was old," Irene sighed.

* * *

Erik was nervously running towards his office, knowing he couldn't have the ceremony there without trying to hide the chaos - maybe he could just cover the many papers with white sheets and throw some petals on them, calling it a new design? Whom was he fooling - there was no room for this!

"Erik?" Dr. Gängelmann approached him, "Can you come to the pier?"

"The pier? Now?" Erik didn't even bother to look at his watch. Meg would say no anyways and her mother would have his head for this, but he didn't even care now. Maybe being dead and buried would at least give him a chance to rest. Yes, being buried sounded rather pleasant to him in that moment.

"By the way - the rings," Johann said and handed Erik two silver rings, "I could only buy silver rings for what I took from the cash desk. I'm sorry, but I guess Meg will understand, she knows how bad your financial situation is."

"Rings?" Erik obviously had no idea what the taller man was talking about, "Why would we need silver rings, steel is..." He was obviously still thinking about the generator.

"Errr... your wedding? Now?"

"Wedding? O..." Erik slapped himself hard, "Yes, sorry."

"When they ask you something, just say 'yes' and not some technical term," Dr. Gängelmann sighed.

"Do you know Meg keeps calling you Gangle?" Erik asked, "She still can't pronounce Dr. Johann Gängelmann."

"That is absolutely irrelevant! Erik, why are you that easily distracted? It is your wedding, man, so you better get going! Here, the rings! Now come on or do I have to ask Squelch to carry you?"

"No... but... if there will actually be a wedding, why are we going to the beach?" Now Erik was utterly confused. He thought they were going to see the building site for the generator.

Dr. Gängelmann laughed and clapped Erik's shoulder. "My friend, the wedding will be at the beach, didn't you know that? It is early morning, we have the beach all for ourselves, and it is as you required not in the variety."

"O..."

"Just say 'yes'," Dr. Gängelmann advised, "And please try to keep your mouth shut otherwise."

* * *

When they reached the beach Erik saw to his great surprise that a table had been put up and decorated as altar. Meg stood there, wearing a wonderful pink dress that masterfully concealed her pregnancy. Behind her was her mother, dressed in a blue dress.

The two braidsmaids behind her were Fat Suzie and the He-She. Erik wondered when Meg had become such a good friend with the He-She but they seemed to be best friends now. Fat Suzie... that was something he would need to find out eventually, he knew that Meg was jealous and most likely had already learned that the first woman he had ever been with had been Fat Suzie and not Meg. He was sure she would use that against him in future arguments. Why was he there to marry her? Why?

Erik looked down and checked if he was dressed properly. Well, sort of. He wore an elegant dark blue suit, so there was not much to say about that. O no, the shirt was creme-color, not white and he had no necktie! Just great. Brown socks and black shoes. He looked like a clown and not a bridegroom. His hand flung up to check if he wore a mask. With a sigh of relief he realized that he had put on mask and wig. At least something.

"Any ideas who is my best man?" Erik asked.

"That will be Irene Fleck and Squelch. I'm the wedding planer, so I can't do that myself," Johann replied as he led a rather distressed Erik towards the group. They were all there, Erik realized, his friends. The freaks. But not only them, even some of the norms were there, most of them black or other discriminated races, but to Erik's great surprise even a few white men were there. Even Mr. Singer.

"You are late!" Antoinette hissed as she greeted him, "And you really ought to have chosen something befitting this ceremony!" She was referring to his clothing. He wore his dark blue business suit, but not even a cravat as he usually did...

"Antoinette," Johann said and put his hand on her arm, "He's here and he's not in his working clothes and not in the dressing gown. So shut up and go to your place."

Erik felt absolutely ridiculous seeing Meg already there and having to approach the altar now. It was supposed to be the other way round, he was the groom and she the bride, but that was obviously the punishment for being late.

Meg smiled at him. She didn't look unhappy or worried but happy. A happy bride. His greatest wish coming true - he had a bride who was happy to become his wife and they would have a child, a family... why couldn't he feel happy? He was just nervous, embarrassed and felt horribly out of place. Meg was a nice girl and he had to admit that he liked her, but she was not Christine.

He felt guilty thinking of Christine when he was about to marry Meg. Blonde hair instead of brown, a beautiful face, but not as angelic as Christine's, a slender body, much more muscular and strong than Christine who seemed to be so very soft... 'Stop it, stop it now!' he berated himself. There was no going back now, he couldn't say no now. He looked around and noticed just how nice everything had been decorated. His friends must have gone through great trouble to make this a nice ceremony. Some of the musicians had brought their instruments to play something. Erik winced - they had chosen something they knew he liked but it was above their skills. He wouldn't say anything about that though. They wanted to make him happy and that moved him deeply.

Irene tugged his sleeve. He looked down. "Rings!" she whispered. Yes, the rings... he had the rings, hadn't he? Frantically he went through his pockets until he found the tiny box with the rings and held them out to Irene. "Not me - him!" she scolded and couldn't help laughing. Erik looked around, bright red with shame. Most people were grinning or trying to hide their grin somehow. Meg was giggling and Antoinette made a sour face, clasping her cane. He was sure she would have loved to hit him over the head now. He handed the box to the priest who gave him an indulgent nod - obviously he had seen many nervous grooms making fools of themselves in front of everyone.

"I'm sorry," Erik whispered to no one in particular, but obviously Meg thought he was talking to her.

"I never thought I'd see you that nervous. You're almost cute! Just think of how we will laugh when we tell that to our grandchildren!" she whispered chuckling.

Erik stiffened. He couldn't even think now, not one coherent word formed in his mind. Grandchildren? What was she talking about? He found it difficult to even think of surviving this day and she talked about grandchildren. Hopefully she wouldn't come up with the idea of more children - one was bad enough, and it wasn't even born yet! He didn't even want to think of the time the little brat would be around and not safely confined in its mother's womb. It would move around, make noise, demand attention and create even more chaos than was already there...

"Erik? I just asked: Do you, Mr. Erik Y take Miss Meg Giry for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?" the priest repeated himself loudly as if Erik was hard of hearing. Maybe he was, he couldn't recall anything the priest had said. And the correct answer? God, he felt like an actor having a complete blackout on stage. What was his text? Where was the prompter when he needed her?

He cleared his throat. "Oui" he replied. The priest didn't understand French, but didn't everyone in the world know that "oui" was French for "yes"?

"I'm sorry, I need your answer in proper English. Say 'I do' if you want to marry her!"

"Okay..."

"Okay? I need the prescribed answer..."

Erik took a deep breath. He had made a fool of himself and he would most likely hear that embarrassing faux pas for the rest of his life from Meg and Antoinette - and God only knew whomever else. "I do," he finally managed to whisper, his voice failing him.

Meg seemed to have another problem. She hiccuped so badly, she could barely speak. The question the priest asked her was a bit different: "Do you, Miss Meg Giry take Mr. Erik Y for your lawful husband, to to follow him and obey him, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?" Obey him? A wife had to promise to obey her husband... of course! Well, he knew this was an empty promise for Meg hadn't obeyed him in the past, she wouldn't in the future.

She hiccuped. "I... ump... sorry... ump... d...d...do," she finally manged between hiccups. The baby chose that moment for a kick or a punch upwards directly to Meg's stomach and she could just turn round before she was sick.

Erik couldn't help smiling a bit. At least if she would tease him with his faux pas he could get back at her eventually. The priest rolled his eyes, silently thankful that this wedding was at a beach and not in his church, and spoke the prescribed words declaring them husband and wife, glad that he would soon be able to leave that madhouse soon.

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 _Thank you for reading! Please review! Next chapter will be up in two or three days._


	27. Wedding Celebration

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Wedding Celebration**

Squelch and Attamamma brought a table with refreshments. They had hidden it beneath the pier and together could easily carry it. Erik was so deeply moved by this gesture of his friends he felt tears falling from his eyes. Just great. The groom was crying - the bride and the bride's mother not. There wasn't much time to celebrate for they had to leave the beach before the customers would arrive and then everyone had his or her duties before the shows would begin.

Erik was the first to leave. He didn't even wait for anyone to congratulate him or kiss his bride - he just hurried off to deal with some problem at some building site. It was up to Meg to accept the congratulations alone, to make a happy face and tell everyone how grateful they were for this great wedding. Antoinette could barely bring herself to smile, she was furious but wouldn't say anything to make her daughter unhappy now. But she was determined to give Erik a piece of her mind as soon as she could get him, which was unlikely for he seemed to vanish in some building pit and would hopefully re-appear in time for his magic show in the evening.

* * *

Meg was crying as she sat in the canteen that night having dinner with the others. It was already midnight and Erik was not there. She had spend the day alone, hoping to have some chance to see him - she even went looking for him - but he had no time. When she had tried to approach him, he had harshly ordered her to leave the building site for it wasn't save to be there. He even threatened to have her locked up if she tried to follow him around again. He had been back in time for his magic show, this time with the tiny Irene Fleck as his assistant - obviously Irene was the best assistant he had now - and then he had disappeared into his office and locked himself in.

"I'm a married woman and I'm going to spend my wedding night in the women's dormitory and he will be God knows where!" she wept, "I'm married to a man who loves another woman, I'm going to have an unwanted, unappreciated, unloved child which its father only considers a burden, a parasite... if it wasn't for the child I'd drown myself!"

Her mother couldn't take more. She rushed to Erik's office to tell him exactly what she thought of his behavior. She found him huddled in a corner, his knees drawn to his chest, his face in his hands. He too was weeping. Her anger faded as she saw him in such a state.

"Erik?" she asked gently.

He looked up. "Antoinette... what am I to do? I do not want to do it, but I have to... God, I'm such a monster!" he whispered shuddering.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"I..." Erik sniffed and wiped his eyes, "I sorted out the men who are to die in the accident... the life-insurance, you know. If I do as the Boss ordered me to to, I can spare five of them - and leave seven to die. I went through great length trying to find out which seven of them have the least chances to make it here in America and which ones have a chance. I decided to kill only those who would never make it anyways, but... all of them have families back home from where they come from. The seven men I finally picked are either old or stupid so they are handicapped anyways, but I do not like what I'm doing. They do not deserve to die like this. If there was any way I could abandon my horrible scheme I would do so... but now I cannot take the risk myself for I have to live, however else can I provide for my child? I'm a monster, killing others to feed my own offspring..."

"Can't you do something else? Something that wouldn't kill people? A fire in one of the empty buildings?" Antoinette suggested.

Erik laughed bitterly. "I need the buildings. Men are the one thing that is so very easy to replace for there are far too many cheap laborers who don't speak English. Unfortunately immigrant workers are the only thing available superabundant. And if there will be an investigation, it will only be because the insurance company does not want to pay. But it will be an accident, no one will ever find any evidence to indicate anything else." He pushed himself to his feet, his joints creaking and he winced in pain. "And you gave your only daughter to this monster..." he sighed full of self-loathing.

"Go to her," Antoinette told him, "She's upset because she spent the day alone and is afraid you are avoiding her in your wedding night."

Erik ran a hand over his masked face. "Doesn't she know I have to work? I too would have wished for a better day, unfortunately fate has other plans."

"Go to her. At least speak with her before you go to bed. Erik, she's the mother of your child, you can't treat her like this!" she ordered him with all authority she could muster now, "And for God's sake take off the ring you are wearing in memory of Christine - it is so large and precious, one doesn't even see the silver wedding band!"

Erik just nodded sadly. His wedding night. With the wrong woman at the wrong place in the wrong city at the wrong continent in the damned wrong world! Why did everyone expect him to care for her feelings? Why wasn't there one person in the world who would care for his? He felt so terribly out of place, he could be living on the moon.

"I'll talk to her," he sighed, "And I'm sorry that this isn't what she dreamed of. Right now I'm unable to provide anything better."

* * *

When Erik climbed down the stairs to the canteen, Suzie stopped him. "Erik, Meg is..."

"I know. Crying," he sighed wearily, "I'm going to talk to her."

"Not like this," Suzie cautioned him, "Come to the dormitory. We prepared a nice bath for you, and we have a surprise."

"Surprise?"

The surprise was that Suzie, Irene and the He-She had prepared the little shack beneath the pier to be a wedding suit. The old straw mattress was replaced by a new one and they promised they had decorated the room with flowers and clean sheets. There was no other room available for the wedding night. Erik felt his throat tightening. "You... you did this for me?" he asked deeply moved.

"Of course," Johann replied, "We knew from the beginning that you wouldn't be able to do anything yourself now. So we tried our best to make some sort of wedding celebration possible. Now, clean up and get dressed and here's a picnic basket with unfortunately cold meat and grape juice and some candles."

"It isn't just 'cold meat', it is 'Schnitzerl', say 'Schnitzerl'," Irene indignantly protested. She knew that most people except Austrians couldn't pronounce the "erl" ending of words correctly. It was a typically Austrian thing to use the ending "erl" as diminutive. "I made them myself, it's my mother's recipe!"

Erik just thanked her. He didn't care much about her patriotic pride that only seemed to pop up when she could tease the Prussian doctor.

* * *

Meg was still sitting in the canteen, her head resting at the table, sobbing. "My life is such a mess! I'm married to a man who ignores me, pregnant with an unwanted child, can't dance, can't do anything now, I do not even know where the baby and I will be living..."

"Erik is just busy," her mother tried to comfort her, gently stroking her blonde hair that was a complete disarray now.

"He betrayed me before we even were married - he hates me!" Meg cried and pounded her fist against the table. "Ow."

"He loves you, he... just does not know how to show it," her mother tried to calm her down, making a mental note to kill Erik for betraying her daughter later. She didn't even ask why her daughter thought he had betrayed her, she was sure he deserved any punishment anyways.

That moment the door opened and Erik came in. He was dressed in his best suit, a silver cravat, white shirt, his shoes polished. He wore his black wig and a black hat. Somehow he looked very much like he had as the Phantom. With the flawless white mask he managed to look rather good, a commanding air around him. He carried a small basket in his left hand.

"Madame," he have Meg an elegant bow as he stood before her, then offered his arm, "Come." Meg wiped at her reddened cheeks and eyes, Erik handed her his handkerchief.

* * *

They went to the beach, it was a lovely star-lit night. Erik carried a lantern in one hand, the basket in the other. He didn't need the lantern, the light from the stars would be

"I thought you forgot about me," Meg said, still sniffing, "And now I look horrible!"

The masked man didn't even look at her. "No. No one looks horrible to me," he replied.

"I waddle like a duck and have a belly like a horse..."

"You're giving birth to my child, I won't complain about any side-effects," he answered, still not looking at her, his eyes fixed to the sea that reflected the light from the stars. He liked the night at the pier and he would have really appreciated it, had he not been so tired from his long day. He was determined not to let her know how much it cost him to pretend to be happy when he himself felt like sobbing. If he couldn't have happiness there was no reason to deny her. He could at least pretend to be happily married now. Maybe if they were both acting their roles as loving husband and wife well enough they might find some moments of happiness in their lives.

Meg smiled as she saw where he lead her and thought this was really thoughtful and caring of him to go to the place where they had been together the first time now. She was even more surprised by what she saw as Erik opened the wooden door: a mattress covered in white sheets, the walls covered with white sheets and pink roses secured with needles to the white sheets. There was a metal candleholder. Erik took out the candles - pink he noticed to his dismay - and placed them in the candleholder before lighting them.

Pink and white - this could only be the He-She's idea! There was a reason why Vincent was the stage designer and not the He-She. But Meg was absolutely happy, especially about the pink roses. "I love pink roses! How did you know these are my favorite flowers?" she exclaimed happily.

"If love were a flower, I think it would be a pink rose," he replied and put down the basket, "Some food and grape juice?" It was a lie. He didn't like pink, absolutely not, and right now he thought if love were a flower it would be a hemlock. Poisonous and causing a very painful death but the victim would be fully conscious all the time.

"You... you knew this was my favorite food?" Meg couldn't believe what she saw. She had never told Erik that she loved pink roses and currently her favorite food were the tiny Viennese Schnitzel no one but Fleck could make correctly. Before she got pregnant she would have preferred cake and coffee, now it was meat and grape juice. But how could Erik possibly have found out, he was usually not there and he had no time to see her?

Erik kept silent. He wouldn't give away that he had certainly not known, obviously Suzie, the He-She, Irene and Johann had. And he silently blessed his friends for helping him. They were really good friends, caring for him and making him look like an attentive husband when he was not.

Meg happily began nibbling at her schnitzel, looking at the sea which reflected the stars. It was a beautiful summer night. Erik felt tired and the beginning of a pounding headache. He could as well watch the sea lying down.

"Erik? Dr. Gangle..."

"Gängelmann," he corrected stifling a yawn.

"...said that if you were careful a wedding night would be possible." When she got no answer she turned to look at Erik. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed, breathing evenly. Obviously he was asleep. "Maybe there was no need for him to worry," she snapped a bit irritated that he just dozed off. Only a snore answered her. "O, don't mind me - if you are going to snore away your wedding night, I plan to enjoy the beautiful night!" Another snore answered her.

"If you keep snoring like that I want seperate bedrooms!"

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 _Thank you very much for reading. Please review!_

 _I am not sure if I can update next week, but I will try, I promise._


	28. Trouble in the Family

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Trouble in the Family**

Meg woke a bit after 10 o'clock - a normal time to be ready for breakfast at the variety. Erik was still asleep, he had somehow lost wig and mask during the night. Meg smiled. She had slept well at his side. After she found out that he only snored when lying on his back and that she had to turn him round to make him stop. She looked at the now wilting roses and listened to the sea - it was a pleasant, calming noise and she liked the smell of the salty air. She understood why Erik loved to sleep in the shack beneath the pier in summer.

When she looked at him she noticed a slight tremor in his hands and his breathing was somehow labored. "Erik? Are you alright?"

He half-opened one eye and groaned. "Headache," he mumbled, "What time is it?"

"I don't know. Must be breakfast time soon," Meg, who didn't have a watch, answered.

Erik bolted upright. "Breakfast time? O no! I should have been... ow! My head!" He pressed his fingers against his temples in an attempt to ease his pain.

"Can I get you something?" Meg asked, suddenly she wished they had stayed in the variety's dormitory for then Erik would have the doctor just in the next bed.

"Not necessary," he replied and searched his pockets, "Usually I have some pills with me. Do we have something to drink?"

Meg handed him the bottle with the rest of grape juice. "I've eaten all food," she confessed.

Erik swallowed a tiny pill and drank a few gulps of juice. "You eat for two, that's perfect. Our baby will be strong with all that meat you eat now."

"Maybe it will be a boy?"

"I don't care as long as it's healthy," Erik answered and got to his feet, "Unfortunately I have to work. You can stay here, if you like?"

"Just go, I clean up a bit and then go back. Erik, why do you always carry pills with you?" Meg asked worriedly.

Erik sighed: "I wish there was no need for that. Since this spring I suffer so much headache, I just had to have my medication with me all the time. Unfortunately I cannot afford to lie down and rest until it gets better. I hope to get some rest in winter, until then I just have to keep a stiff upper lip. See you later."

* * *

See you later meant in this case that he wouldn't have time for weeks to speak to her more than a mere "Good morning" or "Good night" when running past her to whatever duty he had then. Erik was still torn between the renovation and building work, the management of the far too fast growing theme park and his magic shows, this didn't leave any time for his private life. Meg didn't even have time to complain to him about still living in the dormitory. Erik had neither time nor money nor any energy left to deal with private problems now.

Meg dreaded the day the well-planned accident would happen, but nothing at all happened and finally she began to hope that Erik had found his conscience and given up on his murderous plan. But she decided to shadow him a bit, she had nothing she could do anyways now that her pregnancy made it impossible for her do do any real work.

Wandering around was no problem - the growing theme park was open for business, the beach, the cafes, restaurants, fun-rides and shops attracted many customers. One pregnant woman could easily go unnoticed among all the families there. So she followed Erik to what he called the dark area of the park. The dark area began with the tunnels of horror - Erik currently used one of the old tunnels of horror for he had not yet finished the new ones - behind that the "smoking lounge and bar" aka the opium den with various rooms - from the cheap ones for the poor to the luxury private rooms for the upper class and the "Gentlemen's club" aka luxury brothel and the "variety" aka strip-show. Meg knew women were not allowed there unless they were employed in that area, but since everyone knew she was Mr. Y's wife no one objected to her going to see her husband.

She saw Erik approaching a few women who sat at the tables in a small garden before the brothel, enjoying the nice weather. The women got up and greeted Erik like one would greet a very good friend and Meg felt a pang of jealousy. So that was where he went! This was his o so hard work! He just enjoyed himself with these whores.

Meg stomped directly towards him. Erik saw her in time to greet her with a deep bow, kissed her hand and introduced her to the whores. "Mesdames, allow me to introduce to you my wife."

The faces of the whores lit up as they saw Meg and her obvious state. "Congratulations, my dear!" one said.

"You must be..." another one began, but Erik interrupted her immediately.

"Meg. She's my lead dancer and lovely assistant."

"Meg? I thought her name was Christine?"

Erik closed his eyes and stiffened. Meg narrowed her eyes and shot him a glance that burned like acid before she put on her brightest stage-smile and turned towards the whores. "Christine is the woman who refused to marry him for she preferred a rich nobleman. She's my best friend and is innocent of his hankering after her even after she rejected him."

"O, I'm so sorry, darling!" the prostitute replied, "I didn't know. He always told us of a singer named Christine whom he adores, I thought that would be you."

"Shut up!" Erik snapped embarrassed.

"I knew that he... worshiped her before we came to America," Meg answered, "I had hoped he left her behind in France with his old life but obviously I was mistaken."

Another whore cut in: "And she was really stupid enough to let a gentleman like him go?"

Now it was Meg who was utterly confused and it showed on her face.

"He's a genius!" the whore went on, "You should have seen his designs. Once finished it will make our jobs much easier and provide safety and hygiene we never even dared to dream of. Care to have a look?"

"O yes, please!"

Erik wasn't happy that Meg was so friendly with the prostitutes and they even gave her a tour of the house, eagerly explaining that the luxury brothel would be turned into a dream palace where rich men could make their wildest dreams come true. "This is the Turkish Harem," one of the prostitutes explained, "Or it will be, when finished."

"It is what uncultivated rich Americans think that a Frenchman would dream up a Turkish Harem. It has nothing at all to do with the real thing," Erik grumpily explained.

"Want to see the best thing?" one of the whores asked excitedly.

"O yes, please!"

The whore showed Meg something that looked like a small leather bag. It was made of finest leather, very soft. It would be worn beneath the underwear. "I tried it. None of my customers ever noticed the cheat. So I can sleep with them - without really sleeping with them!"

The women disappeared into one room and Erik was left wondering what they were doing. Obviously the whores showed her his invention, which really made their lives much easier, and they had much fun laughing and giggling. Erik was left to discuss the plans for the new decoration for the suites, wondering why Meg got along with the whores so well.

Finally he decided he had had enough of it and called for Meg to come, he would take her home now.

"May I touch your belly?" one of the younger prostitutes asked and Meg allowed her. "Awww, it just kicked! Must be a boy, strong as it is!"

"Meg, are you done socializing? Come, I'll take you home!"

As soon as they were out of sight and back to the family area of the park - the 'sugar coated sunlit area' as Erik called it - he berated her for disobeying his command never to follow him.

"I'm glad I did," Meg replied, "Now I know that the whores love you because you treat them like a gentleman treats a lady and your invention is ingenious, really, I didn't think it would be possible!"

"It's just some leather and wool and wax and petroleum jelly called Vaseline," Erik sighed, "And I do not want you to socialize with whores. I have to for they are more or less in my employ - but you won't! Do I make myself clear?"

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _It is not easy to get it together with someone like Erik..._


	29. Darkness and Light

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Darkness and Light**

It was a beautiful day in August. Meg was sitting in her chair, knitting clothing for the baby. It was the day of the spring tide. Suddenly a loud crash startled the entertainment seeking guests and all rushed to see what had happened. It was the building site at the beach which was fenced off and even guarded - the generator that would use the tides! There must have been a weak spot in the dam and it had collapsed, burying seven workers underneath. If they had not been crushed by the boards, the sand and the stones, they had drowned when the seawater flooded it.

As Meg pushed her way through the gawking crowds she saw Erik who was close to the site barking orders to the workers as he was working with them as they fought to seal the provisional dam. She knew what had happened, this was the well-planned accident Erik needed for his insurance fraud. And precisely seven men were dead. A spring tide. It had been spring tide, so that had been his plan all along. The provisional dam must have had a certain weakness that would stand up to any normal tide, but not the spring tide. And it was calculable when the next spring tide would be, not for Meg herself, but she knew Erik's love for science and that he could do it. He had planned this all along!

She didn't know why but he looked up, standing knee-deep in water, his eyes met hers. In his eyes she saw nothing but grim determination, no regret, no guilt, nothing. He was like he always was when he was on stage: pure concentration on the task at hand, his behavior perfectly matching the role he was playing right now. And this was what it was now, he was doing a show for hundreds of witnesses, showing he was doing his best, even risking his own life, to save the workmen, but he knew they were already dead. He must have made sure of that somehow. The Phantom was back and it scared Meg even more than the dangling body of Joseph Buquet had for now she knew how Erik worked. The Phantom had left the darkness and hidden corridors and committed his deed in broad daylight for everyone to see - and no one would ever know what he did. It was much more frightening than when he had been hidden.

Then everything went black around her.

* * *

Meg woke in Erik's office, the doctor and Irene next to her, Erik was pacing the room impatiently. He was still in his wet and dirty clothing and his wet shoes made a squishing sound with each step.

"What happened? Will she be alright? What of the child?" Erik questioned the doctor harshly.

"If you shut up and stop distracting me so I can use my eartrumpet I'll tell you in a minute!" Johann snapped back annoyed, "And just for your information: She's pregnant! You shouldn't have involved her in this!"

"I didn't!" Erik yelled and threw something across the room, "I ordered her to stay here!"

Meg didn't trust her ears. The gentle giant she knew as Giant Joe had known? And Irene too? Who else was involved in this murder case? There was a brief silence when Johann listened to the noises the baby made.

"No harm done," he informed Erik, "I guess it was just nerves. The baby is alive and kicking."

"Thank God!" Erik breathed and it seemed to be a genuine relief Meg heard in his voice.

She opened her eyes and stared at him coldly. "Why? Why did you kill them?" she asked.

Erik knelt down beside the couch she was lying on. "Meg, you never ever disobey me! If I say stay away, you stay away, understood? I don't want you to be harmed. It is essential that you follow my instructions to the letter!"

Meg sat up and looked down on him. She suddenly felt so very cold she shivered despite the warm air that was softly breathing in through the open window. "So you can murder more men?"

"Meg, please - you know I had to do it and why. You knew. I have to build up something for our child, I just have to secure its future. I cannot fail in that. Do you understand?"

His voice was intense and Meg felt herself nodding before she knew that she would consent. Suddenly she felt that she even agreed with him, she even felt a warm friendly feeling for him for knowing that he valued the future of their child much higher than everything else. Was this the effect Christine had told her about? That he could make anyone understand him and his motives, even if their rational mind told them his doing was utterly wrong? His voice touched something deep within her soul and she couldn't be mad at him now.

"I do not want to have to tell our child that its father is a heartless killer," Meg whispered trembling.

Erik lowered his eyes in shame. "You do not have to. The police has already been there declaring it an accident. The experts the insurance company has hired are currently at the building site but they won't find any evidence other than that it had been just an accident."

"Joe, you are a doctor - how can you be his accomplice in that murder?" Meg asked.

"Like everyone else," Joe sighed, "I do not pretend to be bound by any loyalty to this land or these men after what they did to me." There was something in his eyes that made Meg shudder. She knew Erik had been horribly abused, had the other freaks suffered the same torment? And then - what did she expect? Erik had trusted friends now - and like her mother in the Opera they were his accomplices now. As was she, she realized.

"Joe - this is not for her ears," Erik said and put a hand on Joe's shoulder which meant he was reaching up, then he turned back to Meg: "Meg, please, for the sake of your unborn child: Swear to me to stay here where I can protect you. Please. Do not endanger the baby, you wanted it and now I want it too - stay here, close your eyes and ears and most of all your lips. You are far too naive and trusting, it could cost all of us our lives. Swear it!"

She nodded, not knowing what exactly she was promising and what it would mean in the future. She only understood that Erik had changed his mind and now welcomed the thought of having a child. How could he be such a monster murdering seven men in cold blood before the eyes of hundreds of people and not even an hour later be a gentle and loving father worried about his unborn child?

* * *

A terrible thunderstorm struck Coney Island mid September. Most fun-rides had to close in the storm but the restaurants and cafes and varieties made better business than expected for those who had been surprised by the weather on Coney Island needed an indoor alternative for the originally planned fun-rides. Erik knew that a weather like that would be perfect for his Hall of Wonders - if it had been finished yet. The hall was ready, only he had yet to design and build the automatons he intended to exhibit there. Let the gawking crowds stare at machines and not at people.

He put up extra shows for the families with children, knowing he needed every dollar he could get now. The audience reacted very well the the announcement that there would be extra shows to compensate for the bad weather so the families would have a nice day anyways. Many families had to wait for the next show in the restaurants and cafes which was good for business.

Between two shows Antoinette informed Erik that they needed the doctor, he would have to be replaced on stage - Meg was in labor. Erik nearly fainted when he got the news. He needed someone on stage to replace Joe as conférencier and at the same time was worried about Meg and the child. Would she survive giving birth? Would the child survive? Would the child be healthy or deformed?

Erik tried to master the panic. He was trembling terribly and couldn't say anything. "Erik?" Vincent pulled his sleeve with his foot, "We need to replace Joe. Benny can do it. Benny wrote nearly all of the texts and has done it before. We just need someone to change him and the show can start with only ten minutes delay."

Erik had not really understood what Vincent was saying. "Erik? We need your decision!" Vincent insisted.

"I... I feel sick..." Erik whispered.

"Okay, we need to do something!" it was Mr. Singer who took over now. With Erik unable to think clearly and Joe - who was the best manager in critical situations, even better than Erik for as a former emergency surgeon Dr. Johann Gängelmann could function in every situation - there was no one else who could do this. "Irene - you go on stage and announce that there will be ten minutes delay because one of the staff is in labor and we need to tranquilize the father-to-be before we can go on. Make a happy face and laugh!"

"Yes, sir!" Irene saluted and rushed to the stage.

"Squelch, bring Erik to the bathroom and pour a bucket of cold water over him, he needs that! The rest of you - prepare for the show, come on, hurry up! Move!"

* * *

Squelch had a hard time getting Erik to function somehow. Erik had gone into shock and was trembling uncontrollably, even retching. "Man up!" Squelch rebuked him, "We need you on stage!" That moment they heard a scream from Meg who was in the women's dormitories and Erik began hyperventilating.

"I cannot do this..." he whispered and took off his mask, splashing cold water in his face, "Squelch, in my trunk is a... small red metal box. Bring that to me, please..." He couldn't go on talking for his stomach convulsed and he retched, bringing up some bitter yellowish goo. With shaking fingers he retrieved the small metal box but he was shaking so hard he couldn't open it.

"Let me help you," Squelch said and took the box back to open it. It contained small pills. "What is this?"

"Something to calm my nerves," Erik used a towel to wipe his face and blow his nose, then took one of the pills, placed it in his mouth and swallowed it without drinking anything. He sat down on the floor or the bathroom, hugging himself and waiting for the medicine to take effect.

"Ten minutes are over - are you ready?" Squelch asked worriedly. Erik shook his head. The trembling had somehow lessened but he clearly needed to wash and change his clothes now. "You have to clean yourself up. Come on - I'll help you. I get your spare costume." Erik had four sets of costumes, two nearly identical in silver and grey, one in black and one in dark green and gold. Squelch chose the green one, it was friendlier in the kid's show than black one. Black robes and a white mask - that scared children.

Erik calmed down enough for the show to begin with half an hour delay. He had no idea what he actually did on stage, if the show was good or bad, he couldn't even recall if someone demanded money back or not. Someone helpfully had decided to give him the props for the easiest tricks which he might be able to do when fully incapacitated, which he was actually. Some tricks went wrong, he knew than, he made a fool of himself, but he could not concentrate.

In his mind he counted the shows he would have to do that day. How many until he finally would be able to see Meg and the child? When he was behind the stage because some other act was on, no one told him anything but he could hear Meg's screams from the dormitory. How was it possible that she could scream so loud they could hear it behind the stage? No human voice, not even his own, should be that loud. Was she dying? Would he be left alone in the world with a deformed child? He was not sure if he would survive that. But the thought of leaving a deformed child alone in the world without anyone was even more unbearable. He did not know what to do, he was helpless. The only thing he could do now to keep himself from breaking down was to concentrate only at the current moment, not think one second in the future.

Between the second last and the last show Mr. Singer informed Erik shortly before shoving him on stage: "Congratulations, it is a healthy girl."

Whatever happened in the last show, the split second his duty was done Erik sprinted towards the women's dormitory, not caring whom he pushed out of the way or would run over. He didn't care that in the women's dormitory, where Meg had just given birth, were now many women changing out of their costumes and going to the bathroom. He didn't even notice there was anyone else, certainly no women in different states of being undressed.

"Congratulations, it is a girl," the doctor said. He looked tired and was covered in blood, but he didn't seem to notice.

Erik went to the bed, seeing Meg holding a tiny bundle. She looked pale and exhausted but happy and she was constantly kissing the tiny bundle. He only saw the sheets the bundle was covered in.

"I want to see her!" he demanded, his voice somehow childlike in his anxiousness.

Meg moved a bit and pulled back the sheets so he could see the face of his daughter. The baby was unusually small, the skin reddened and a bit bluish from the strain of being born, bruises showed on the tiny face. She had her eyes closed and the face contorted like she was in pain. She didn't have baby fat yet, no hair and the skin was wrinkled. He waited for what everyone called falling in love at first sight, but it didn't happen. All he felt was a mixture of relief because there was no deformity and disappointment for the child was in no way beautiful or even lovable. It looked like shriveled rag doll.

Everyone around him congratulated him to this most beautiful daughter, called her the sweetest baby in the world - why? What did they see that he could not? He felt empty, drained, a paralysing feeling of nothing, feeling nothing at all, while everyone seemed to be out of their minds with joy.

"Isn't she the sweetest girl in the world?" Antoinette fluted in delight. Everyone, even Meg, was chattering, only Erik found he could not say anything.

"We didn't agree on a name," Meg said, "What will be her name?"

The first name that came to his mind was Christine, but somehow he doubted Meg would appreciate that the child would be named after her best friend who was his only true love. But right now there was no other name in his mind, he couldn't remember any name except Christine.

"I agree that you as the father should name her," Antoinette agreed with her daughter.

"Antoinette..." Erik hadn't meant to name the child Antoinette, he wanted to tell her that he didn't have any idea how to name to baby but she mistook him and interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

"You want to name her after me, her grandmother? O Erik, that is so thoughtful of you! I'm honored! Meg, my child, do you agree with him?" Antoinette looked like she would begin jumping through the roof in her happiness.

"Why not?" Meg answered, "She could become a dancer like us. We could teach her. She will be the most graceful ballerina in America!"

Erik sank down on the floor, unable to stay on his feet any longer. He passed out on the floor, but no one noticed for everyone had only eyes for the newborn child.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _I'm sorry there won't be a chapter next Friday. I'll upate next week. Thank you very much for reading and please review!_


	30. Major Changes

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Major Changes**

Little Annie - that was the baby's nickname from the beginning - seemed to have a very precise clockwork build in her stomach. She started crying precisely every three hours, day and night. Which meant Meg and Annie had to move out of the dormitory for no one would be able to get enough sleep with the baby crying every three hours. At daytime it wasn't that bad, Annie was easily silenced by the routine nappies changing - warm bath - feeding - carry around for precisely six minutes and thirty seconds - back to bed. Meg had soon worked out that routine and knew that Annie would sleep or be content lying somewhere where she could see her mother or grandmother or any other babysitter.

So they put up a bed in the canteen. Meg and Annie would have to sleep there from 2 a.m. to 10 a.m. because that was the time everyone in the variety slept. Later the day Meg could take her to the dormitory, if she wanted to, or wherever else she liked. They slept in the same bed for there was no cradle. Erik had promised to build one or at least buy one but with him that occupied in his work Meg doubted he would do so before Annie would have her own children.

Finding someone to baby-sit Annie was no problem at all. Everyone loved her and everyone wanted to baby-sit, Antoinette Giry had to make a list who would be allowed to baby-sit and for how long because Little Annie's appointment book was even more fully booked than her father's.

Erik found himself in a difficult situation. Everyone expected him to be proud and happy, everyone was instantly fell in love with Little Annie, everyone told him that she was the most beautiful baby girl in the world and how they envied him to have such a wonderful daughter. He wondered what was wrong with him because he did not fall in love with the baby. The baby didn't look cute in his eyes. It was just a small bundle constantly expelling some disgusting liquid, one more disgusting than the other. He wondered how such a tiny body could contain so much liquid. She didn't do much except lying around and crying. Everyone told him that she was such a clever girl, developing so very fast - she must be a genius! - but he couldn't see that. He could not confirm that she would already understand everything, only her tiny mouth wasn't able to talk yet. He couldn't confirm that she recognized anyone. She just laughed at everyone who managed to amuse her. He doubted the girl knew who her parents were with all those other people baby-sitting her. He had no time to play with her or watch her sleep, he had no time to carry her around. All he could do was seeing her in the morning and late at night before he went to bed, of course he stayed in the freak's dormitory. After some time of observing he began to act exactly as everyone expected a proud father to behave but he felt empty. Nothing. He wanted to love the baby, but he found he felt nothing. Maybe when she would get older, when she would be able to speak, when he could teach her something. Until then he would have to keep pretending. Or maybe he would spend the rest of his life pretending to love a woman he didn't love and a child he didn't love. Had his ability to love somebody been extinguished when he had set Christine free? This couldn't be for he still felt that he loved Christine. So why couldn't he love the baby which was obviously his?

Meg returned to the stage soon, too soon for her mother's tastes but she was so excited to be rid of the additional weight she ached to be dancing again. Erik was happy to have his lovely assistant back in his stage shows. Working with Meg was so much easier! She understood what he wanted without him having to tell her, she did what she was told to do and easily learned the details. Only he had to adjust the props, Meg had ten kilograms more than before her pregnancy!

* * *

Beginning of October Bruno Riccy got nervous because the prosecutor was still alive and working. He decided to give Erik a warning that he had to decide now if he wanted to pay or if he wanted to be part of Riccy's gang and get rid of the prosecutor one way or another. Anyways the special prosecutor would not live to see Christmas. He did this very directly, going to Coney Island and approaching Erik as he was on his way back from one of the renovation projects to the variety to be there in time for the magic show.

"I want your decision until end of October. If I do not see the prosecutor unable to work by first of November or you deliver the money in cash I'll come to collect what you owe me," Riccy stated bluntly, "You know what happens if you cross me. You already got your first warning."

Erik shuddered. He knew what was next - and he couldn't risk Meg or - God forbid - Little Annie! "No..." he whispered in shock and hoped Riccy would miss just how terrified he was right now, "I'll do whatever you ask me to do. The prosecutor won't be able to trouble you before first of November."

"For the man who can control natural disasters this won't be a problem, will it?" Bruno Riccy clapped his shoulder jovially and winked like they had just shared a good joke. Erik fought hard not to vomit then and there - they were in the streets in the amusement park with lots of customers around them. It wouldn't do any good if they saw him being sick.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Erik replied, trying to sound as calm as possible, "If you refer to that unfortunate accident, this was already checked and double-checked by the experts from the police, the building authority and the insurance. All of them agree that it was simply an accident caused by the disobedience of the workers themselves and the unfortunate coincidence it happened at the time of the spring tide."

Erik couldn't help silently congratulating himself to the scheme itself: the provisional dam should be removed that day and he had asked the seven workers to sign a written order that they were not allowed to begin with their work until a certain time. At that time there would be a nip tide so the removal of the provisional dam wouldn't be any risk at all. With that written and signed order he could claim that he had done everything he could to prevent the accident. What no one knew or even cared to investigate was that all seven men spoke only very little English and couldn't read English at all. So they had followed his spoken order, which differed from the written one. But now that they were dead no one could prove what he had said to them.

The insurance company fumed but they had to pay the exorbitant sum.

Too bad Riccy obviously kept an eye on him and must have placed a few spies in the theme park for he assumed that the accident was created by the masked magician who seemed to be able to defy the laws of nature.

"Here," Riccy handed Erik a leather briefcase with papers, "I have a complete dossier about the man. You'll need this, you can keep it or burn it, as you like, it is a copy. Do not let me wait too long, it is already October..."

Erik hated what he was doing, but right then he saw no other way. He decided to read the papers to find out what Riccy's men had found out about the prosecutor.

* * *

Late that night Erik sat in his office, reading the papers about the observation of the prosecutor. What he found made Erik cringe - that man was so very young, he was only 24 and had already reached such a high position: special prosecutor. He was investigating a large corruption affair in the New York police and courts system, even politicians were involved. And Bruno Riccy obviously. Erik couldn't know how Riccy was tied to these politicians and judges, prosecutors and detectives, but it was not hard to guess that he paid them to protect his illegal fight-clubs, drug smuggling, gambling, prostitution and extortion enterprise.

Erik found that he admired the young prosecutor's diligence and determination despite every hardship for that young man was investigating an affair around so many rich and mighty men, so of course he had far too many enemies. But it is hard to kill one whom he secretly admired. He did not want to kill that man, what little he himself knew that prosecutor was hunting down men who were responsible for thousands of deaths - not directly but indirectly. If anyone was able to drain that swamp it would be this man whose name was Jonathan de Mer, maybe he was of French heritage.

Jonathan de Mer was a man who had the potential to do much good, save many lives and make the State of New York a better place to live - including Coney Island. Erik was sickened by the thought that he was about to kill that man, making himself an accomplice to each and every crime that would be committed by those the prosecutor would not be able to arrest in time. Erik decided that he needed a drink.

He moved quietly, it was past 3 a.m. and everyone was asleep. Meg and Annie in the canteen as always. He did not need to lit a light, the shutters were open and what little moonlight fell into the room was enough to see for him. He stopped at the bed to see Meg and the baby. Meg was sound asleep and slightly snoring. She was snoring in waltz time he noticed to his amusement.

His eyes fell on the face of the baby. The baby was wide awake, her large dark blue eyes looking up at him. Little Annie was smiling happily as he bend down to have a closer look. "Da," the baby said, "Da, da dadadadada" Was she trying to say "dad"? Erik knew that almost everyone tried to get her to say "mum" and "dad".

"What do you say, ma cherie?" he whispered, "Do you call me 'daddy'?"

"Dada," Annie exclaimed and clapped her hands. Erik reached down to touch her and she grasped his index finger with her tiny hands and held on with all her strength. He was surprised how strong this tiny girl was.

Suddenly a strange feeling rushed through him. He couldn't quite place it but he wanted the world this baby was living in to be better than the world he was living in. He wanted her to have a better life, a better future. He cringed at the thought his baby would one day learn of his crimes, would be ashamed of being his daughter, would have to disown him to be able to build up a respectable life for herself. He could not change his past, maybe he could not even change his life and his future, but he could try to do something to make his little daughter proud of being his child.

That moment he decided that he had to find a way around Riccy's demands. Somehow. He just had to. Suddenly he wished he had had this change of heart sooner.

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 _A child changes everything. Next chapter will be up Wednesday!_


	31. Changing Sides

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Changing Sides**

A very cold night in October Erik went to the prosecutor. He was still not sure if he would have the guts to go through with his scheme, but what else could he do now? He was no hero, had never intended to be one, but Riccy's blackmail forced his hand.

Jonathan de Mer woke with a start, only to feel strong hands closing around his throat, leaving him unable to breathe. "If I release you, you make no sound at all, understood?" the dark shadow which stood above his bed whispered. He could only try to nod and the hands were drawn back immediately. "You may lit your lamp," the dark shadow said and Jonathan noticed the smile in the dark shadow's voice.

As he lit the candle on his bedside table he saw who was sitting at his bed. It was a tall man, dressed in a black cloak, black suit, black hat and a black full-face mask.

"What do you want?" Jonathan asked, his voice astonishing calm for a man who was facing an assassin.

"That is for you to decide," Erik answered, "Either kill you or save your life."

"Stop being cryptic and state your business!"

Erik chuckled. The prosecutor behaved like he might have in a well-guarded interrogation cell. Was he really that fearless? "You stepped on some toes which are only used to be bootlicked," the masked man stated, "I can be your best friend or your worst nightmare now."

"A hired killer?" the prosecutor asked him, finally showing nervousness.

"Yes and no. I could become a spy in your employ and deliver the evidence on a silver tablet - or you die here and now."

"Fine. What do you want in return?" Jonathan de Mer asked.

Erik found it odd to say "fine" in such a conversation, but he already knew that everyone deemed Jonathan to be somehow odd. "Full citizenship with all rights. Full pardon for all crimes I committed in the past and am going to commit while I am the mole in that criminal cartel."

That got Jonathan's interest. This masked man must be an insider of the criminal organization he was after. "Who are you?"

Erik fought with himself. Should he reveal his identity and make himself vulnerable? Well, why not? If the special prosecutor didn't agree to his scheme he could always proceed in killing him. He took off the hat and the black mask, revealing his white half-mask underneath.

The prosecutor's eyes widened. "You? The vaudeville magician from Sam Singer's?"

Erik winced. Of course, he had been so busy he had completely forgotten to rename the variety. He would do that later, right now he had to concentrate on what he was doing now. "I'd prefer to be called businessman because I'm the owner of the amusement park," he snapped. Too late he realized that this might be an error.

The prosecutor - still sitting in his bed - nodded. "They call you the freak who plays business," he said, "And every businessman - even the working class people - laugh about you and your childish game of playing business. They say you are acting like a small boy playing a game of make-believe."

Erik took a sharp breath. "So you assume that I am a madman trying to pretend what I cannot be?"

"No. But I think you suffer from an unrealistic overconfidence and self-esteem," Jonathan de Mer said calmly.

Erik felt hot rage well up in his chest. How dare that stupid man insult him like this? How dare he? He could kill that insignificant wretch any moment now, he should do it. Right now, then and there. But there was a tiny voice of reason in the back of his head. If he killed the prosecutor now, even if he was never caught and would never stand trial, who knows when the next chance to get rid of Bruno Riccy would be? How long would he be the crime-lords vicious attack dog and what would he be forced to do before he got the next opportunity to get rid of him? His hands were already covered in blood, he had no illusions about that, but he wanted a new beginning, he just had to, for his child.

"I will pretend not to have heard that," he hissed.

"Why? If you want a deal with me we need to be perfectly honest with each other. You are a hired killer to make me disappear, but you come here offering to help me if I can manage to get full rights as American citizen. Fine. But I cannot risk you doing something foolish in your arrogance and haughtiness. The tiniest mistake on your part and you lose your life - and I my maybe only chance to make the catch of my life. I want the whole gang, not just Bruno Riccy and his kind. He's not the only one, his territory is Coney Island, but there are others too in New York. I want the Sheriff, the prosecutor, the two judges, and the politicians who are on their payrolls. I want the whole corruption scandal brought to light and the guilty men to stand trial for their crimes. You want to become my criminal informant? Well, but then you need to play by the rules!"

Erik sat there staring at the prosecutor who was breathing hard after his speech. He was uncomfortably aware that he had gravely underestimated the young special prosecutor. And the young man was right - if he really wanted to play that most dangerous game, risking his own life and that of his family - o God, the life of his darling baby! - he needed to be much more careful. He lowered his head and noticed that his hands were trembling. Oddly he didn't really feel panicked, but his body seemed in a panic attack. Had this body forgotten to inform his brain about his feelings? "I'm going to risk my life," he stated matter of factly, "If anyone gets to know that I inform you and you are not dead, I have no idea what they will do to me. Believe me, I know the risk."

"I do not," de Mer replied, "So please inform me of your scheme."

"You have to die," Erik began, then, as he noticed the prosecutor's shock, waved his hand and added: "Not really. I'm a magician, right? I make it look like you died and you go into hiding to whomever is backing you. Listen, you really ought to die in a traffic accident, your death is my entrance ticket to the right circle."

"You would have to do real murders in the future," the prosecutor said.

Erik shrugged. "These victims are doomed anyways. And believe me, if I find a way without spilling blood, I will do so. I know it will take years to uncover the right evidence and I know that I am no witness who could ever convince judge and jury, I need better evidence, much better. And I know how to get precisely that - but I need to be the insider, I need to be the one to do the dirty work for them."

"Sounds good to me," Jonathan said, "Now tell me how I am to die?"

* * *

The accident was nothing spectacular. It happened when Erik was on stage on Coney Island performing as magician. The prosecutor was on his way home from his office in the court building as he was run over by a carriage when the horses bolted because a car driving by extremely close had startled them. An accident, not even worth a note in the newspapers. Only that it was no accident. The prosecutor seemed to be run over by the carriage, destroying his head so he was only recognizable by his clothing and the wallet that was found on his body. He must have fallen, the horses stepped on his body and the wheel of the carriage run over his head. The doctor said he had been dead immediately.

It was considered an accident and no one ever thought otherwise. No one except Riccy and his friends who had a little celebration - to add to the macabre in one of the bars in Erik's theme park.

It was near the end of season and most shows and fun-rides would close for the winter soon, even the variety, but not the enterprises in the dark area of the park. Drugs, gambling and prostitution didn't know any seasons, they were open for business as long as customers came.

Erik even joined them after the performance, he was dressed in his "greedy-barkeeper-costume" and brought them a bottle of red wine. They didn't say anything, just allowed him to open the bottle and pour wine in glasses, serving them. It was almost too silent until Erik himself took the first glass and drank from it, proving to them there was no poison in the wine. Only when Erik was gone they allowed themselves to relax and celebrate. Knowing a murder just happened is one thing, but having the killer serving them a bottle of wine another.

The next day they learned that it had been just another traffic accident. Nothing to worry about, nothing to think twice. Such things happened everyday in the overcrowded streets - only this time the dead man was a prosecutor, but otherwise such accident was not unusual.

They could not know that the prosecutor had not been there at all. The corpse was that of an already dead man, a criminal who had been hanged for murder. The real prosecutor was taken to safety by the authorities who had asked him to investigate the corruption scandal in the first place, making sure he would be hidden in another city. He would stay there and wait for the reports he got. Of course he mistrusted Erik, but there was something in the masked man's eyes as they had talked - a grim determination to go through with this. To make the world a better place. When they had worked on the "accident" Jonathan had asked why the masked man would take that risk - which was tremendous - to see justice done. The answer had been as simply as convincing: "My baby shall not face the same obstacles I do." It was a great risk, but not for the prosecutor. If another criminal would be murdered, well then, let him. If he succeeded in bringing some evidence, all the better. Only one thing troubled the prosecutor: the masked man's overbearing arrogance. Did that man really believe himself above all humanity and invincible? That man recklessly rushed forward never considering the cost. This might break his neck soon.

The only one who felt very pleased with himself and absolutely confident about the whole affair was Erik himself. He knew it would take years, but now that he had proven himself, Riccy just had to let him become his right hand man. And that was the perfect position to uncover the evidence the prosecutor needed. Whatever that might be.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Erik is bringing himself into an even more difficult situation - at least he's trying to be on the right side now._


	32. Cold

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Cold**

The beginning of winter soon brought another problem. Erik soon found that his calculations had been too optimistic, he had underestimated the costs and was running out of options. He already had called in the rent for the buildings he had rented out and would be open during the winter to pay the installment and buy an additional generator for the generator which used the tides did not work as he had calculated, the electricity he got out of that far too changeable. He needed a second generator to even out the ups and downs so the park would have enough energy all the time. He wanted every building to be illuminated with electric light.

But now he was out of money, didn't have anything to buy whatever he would need to build automatons for his Hall of Wonders, he didn't have money to buy food and firewood and coals for the employees he could not send away during the winter - the freaks and his musicians. He had to provide food and shelter for them, but right now didn't know how and it was not even end of November.

He needed to get some money to buy food. He could not fail feeding them. He just had to. Erik sighed. He had hoped for some rest in November before the chaos of planning the next season would begin. He would get none. He took the train to get away from Coney Island, covered in a warm grey cloak, scarf and hat. The cold weather made it easy to cover himself without raising any suspicions. Right now he looked just like any other working class man going home after a long day in some factory. He began picking pockets. This was the easiest way to get some money and the lowest risk right now. In large crowds in the darkness after the early sunset it was a child's play to steal. He made his way to the better quarters, knowing he would face much revulsion of the so-called better people, but they had better filled purses. He just had to get some food soon or there would be no dinner for everyone - including his wife and then she would not be able to feed Little Annie.

He already had many wallets as he began working his way back to the train station, when he suddenly heard a child cry out: "That's him! Dad, that is the masked magician!"

Erik flinched and turned round uneasily, knowing he had just stolen that man's purse. The child - it was a boy - came to him with a huge grin. "Sir, it is a pleasure to meet you," the boy said delighted. Erik felt bad about this last theft. "I've heard about your show, but can't see them - too expensive," the boy went on, "But maybe when I get myself a job I can see it."

Erik wished the ground would open up and swallow him. He reached for the purse he had stolen from the boy's father. "Thank you, young gentleman," he said with a smile, pretending to make a joke, "Catch!" and he threw the purse to the boy's father.

"Wow!" the boy exclaimed, "How did you do this? How?"

"A magician..." Erik began his standard excuse.

"...never reveals his secrets," the boy finished the sentence for him with a proud grin, "I know. Some boys have already seen your show and told me."

Erik lowered his eyes in shame. How could he steal from that family when the boy loved him? He reached into his pocket and took out one of the stolen purses, feeling shame searing through him like lava. He had stolen from poor working class people who had been carrying home what little they earned in one week - most likely condemning many families to a hard week close to starvation. But he could not give the money back now, it was impossible. All he could do was reaching into the purse and taking out a few dollars, counting them before he handed them to the boy. "Here. This is exactly what a ticket costs if you come Monday to Thursday. Weekends are more expensive."

"Wow! Thank you, sir, thank you so much!" the boy would have hugged Erik had the father not held him back.

"Thank you. This is the best Christmas gift my son ever received," the man said, lifting his hat and bowing to Erik who felt even worse now.

On his way home Erik bought as much oatmeal as he could carry, knowing this would not make a tasty dinner but it would fill the stomach and was easily digestible. He was ashamed of himself and decided not to try theft if he could avoid it. He needed some other way to get what he needed.

Erik sat at the dinner table, picking at his food. Oatmeal boiled in hot water to make porridge. Not even boiled in tea and certainly not in milk to give it some kind of taste. It had no taste at all. He had not had anything to eat that day but didn't feel hungry. He could not forget that boy's face and the admiration in the child's eyes - in him! This child's admiration was misplaced, he was no hero, he was... just a thief. Murderer. He winced as he realized that theft was by far not his greatest sin. He was a monster, no matter how much he tried to be human. There had to be a way... something, anything, giving him a chance to earn some additional money. But what? How could he alone earn enough to buy that much food, even if he considered a lower quality? How?

"Here's daddy! Look here's your daddy!" Meg cheerfully exclaimed as she sat by his side with Little Annie who laughed at him.

"Hello dear," Erik replied and tried to smile despite the sadness that threatened to consume him.

"Dadadada!" Annie babbled and laughed.

"What is it?" Meg asked, noticing that Erik was depressed, "Can I help you?"

"No... it is just... financial worries," he replied, "Nothing you women should worry about. I will somehow..." He choked back a sob that threatened to leave his throat.

"It is that bad?" Meg asked.

"Worse. I... do not have enough money to buy food for the winter. Today I had to steal to buy oatmeal," he whispered, "This can't go on. I need... a well-paid job, I think."

"And who is to design the automatons? Who is to compose the music to create new shows? Erik, you are so exhausted already you take far too many headache pills. You need to get a few days rest."

"Thanks for your concern, but I guess rest is something I shall only find in my grave."

"Which could be sooner than you think - do you want Annie to grow up without a father?"

Erik smiled at the baby girl who was staring at him with large eyes that darkened somehow. She would have brown eyes in the future. "I'll do my best."

* * *

It was humiliating, but Erik saw no other way to earn enough extra than to accept a job as bar pianist in the luxury hotel of the highest standard on Coney Island. It was demeaning, now that he owned large parcels of land to be forced to do such work, but he didn't have money and selling landed property was no option at all. He was obliged to feed and shelter his employees through the winter. If it meant being six hours a day a bar pianist, he had to do this. At least he was hidden behind a curtain and not seen by the guests, which made it easier for him. No one would ever know what he was doing. He felt like a whore, prostituting his music, but what could he do? Stealing again? Burglary? Another insurance fraud? The most humiliating detail was that the building belonged to himself, he had just rented it out to the hotel operator, but he had no choice.

The next problem was that when he was working from six p.m. to midnight as bar pianist, how could be possibly find the strength and time to create new shows and - and this was a really big problem - crate any exhibits for the Hall of Wonders? He would need the money from the Hall of Wonders, but if he didn't have at least some really good exhibits, no one would pay an entrance fee. The Hall did not need to be completed - in fact, it had never occured to Erik to complete the exhibition. He just wanted to present technical wonders he himself created to the world, always adding one more and taking one away the same time, so people would come every year because every year there should be at least one new machine.

But now he didn't have time. He tried to work, but after the strain of the last year he was drained, he had planned to get some rest in November and start working in December, but that was impossible now. It became harder and harder each day to even get up in the morning, to drag himself to his workshop and then to the bar.

It was beginning of December when Erik came home after his shift as bar pianist. It was almost an hour after midnight and he wanted to get some dinner, hoping the others had saved a plate for him. Usually they left him at least a cup of cold tea and some food, whatever that was that day. When he came closer to the canteen he noticed that the door was slightly open and the others were laughing and telling jokes.

"How does Mr. Y make coffee?" Benny cheerfully asked, "He ties a coffee bean to a piece of wire and hangs it into lukewarm water. Every year the bean is exchanged for a new one." Affirmative chuckle from the others arose.

Erik had to lean against the wall to stay on his feet. He realized to his horror that they were making jokes about him as they had made fun of Sam Singer. But he was not Sam Singer, he was sharing everything with them, the dormitory, the food, every hardship and humiliation! How dare they mock him like that!

"How does Mr. Y make cabbage soup?" Giant Joe began the next joke, "He takes some water..."

"Sea water," Attamamma cut in, "He wouldn't waste his money buying salt when there is enough salt for free in the ocean." A roar of laughter answered.

"Let me tell the joke!" Giant Joe indignatly replied, then went on: "He shows one cabbage leaf to a pot of cold seawater, then orders the water to memorize the taste." Another roar of laughter.

Erik, still leaning against the wall, shook his head in disbelief. These were his friends in there, freaks, musicians - he had thought they loved him, were thankful and loyal... He leaned his back against the wall, covering his masked face with his hands as the pain forced tears to his eyes.

"After this winter I need a new stage name," Fat Suzie laughed, "The woman who lost most weight in the world." Another laughter answered her.

"And... and how does he fire the stove?" Vincent asked, already chuckling, "He asks his mother in law to look sternly at the dying embers, then they do not dare to go out..." The following laughter was even louder than the previous one.

Erik sank to the floor, his back still pressed against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest as he buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly. It hurt, it hurt so much. He had thought that they were his friends, that he was one of them and now he found himself mocked and humiliated.

The door opened and Meg left the canteen, still chuckling. Erik couldn't believe that she too had turned against him. Meg stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Erik huddled on the floor, tears falling from his eyes, his eyes red and widened and burning with pain and weariness.

She knelt down beside him and reached out to touch him but he pushed her hand away roughly. "You - the mother of my child!" he spat, "I thought they were my friends, that I was one of them and yet they mock me like they mocked the exploiter Singer! I share every hardship with them and now that I am collapsed on the floor they spit in my face and stamp down on me!"

"No! Erik, we... not one of us meant to..." Meg objected.

Erik stiffened and his eyes showed nothing but deepest contempt: "Do not take me for a fool!" he yelled.

It was loud enough to alert the people in the canteen who immediately rushed to the door. "Erik... did you hear?" Irene Fleck asked visibly paling.

"Every damned word," his voice seemed to come directly from the grave as he sat there slumped on the floor, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Erik, we were just..." Vincent tried to explain.

"Mocking me? I know bloody well that I do not fulfill my obligation to feed you properly! You do not have to spit that in my face! I share the cold, the hunger with you and I even endure the constant humiliation of working as a bar pianist so I can at least put something on the table!"

An awkward silence followed his words and it was uncomfortably long. Only then Erik realized that he had just confessed what he was doing to feed them through the winter. He looked away in embarrassment, unable to face them now that they knew.

"We... we didn't know," Johann said mortified, "We assumed you were miserly because you wanted to buy yourself some nice flat in an elegant quarter."

Erik stared at him stunned. "Whatever gave you **that** idea?" he asked. Why would anyone assume he wanted to get rich at the expense of others? Well, on closer examination he had given them some reasons - some of them knew of his crimes, some had even been his accomplices - to suspect him. He pushed himself to his feet and stood before Johann, who lowered his head and tried to look up at Erik who was smaller by a head. "Joe, please - you know that I would never betray you. I am one of you, have always been, haven't I? I... I wish I could fulfill my promises better, but right now I... have nothing."

He stood there, shamefaced after his confession. He was practically admitting that he had failed them. That his calculations were far too optimistic. That he was neither strong nor clever enough to achieve his ambitious goals. He was not good enough. It was degrading.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Suzie asked, pushing her way through the crowd that had formed around the door.

"How could I?" the masked man nearly choked on his words, "All of you had such faith in me. You even relinquished to claim the proper payment I owe you. All of you supported my dream of becoming something more, something better than I am. Creating a place where we can live without suppression, without prejudice, without humiliation and shame. And yet... and yet I failed."

"I have some savings," Suzie replied softly, "You can have them."

"I'm afraid I won't be able to pay back that loan," Erik objected, "I'm afraid I have to declare bankruptcy and end up in the poorhouse far too soon - or even in prison for bankruptcy fraud. Suzie, you need that money for the time you grow old!"

Suzie laughed it off. "You really think one might grow too old to be fat?"

"You can have my savings as well," Tilly Three Legs said, "I'll just accept a few more private calls and that's it."

"I can't..." Erik refused.

"I could earn a bit extra at the racing course," Squelch added, "I do not like farm work, but I can do it. What do you say? Everyone who is able should try to contribute somehow."

"We could take the train to New York and play Christmas Carols near churches," the violinist said, "People will give us coins."

"I can't ask that of you! I am your employer, I cannot ask you to find yourself some jobs and contribute to my business, I didn't even pay what I owe you..."

"We will find a way to survive the winter. Next season we create shows of such high quality people will kill to get a ticket!" Irene exclaimed.

Erik stood there, bowing his head in shame. "Thank you. Thank you so much, I cannot even begin to..."

"Just do not give up on our dream," Joe said and embraced Erik who was shivering, "Do not stop dreaming."

* * *

It became a bit easier. Erik finally opened up and told his friends - the freaks and the musicians - of his problems and they agreed to help him. He still had to work as bar pianist, but not each day so there was some time to begin working on his creations for the Hall of Wonders.

It was only two days before Christmas when Meg came to see him, Little Annie in her arms. "Someone wants to greet her daddy. Where's daddy? There's daddy!" she cheerfully announced.

Erik groaned and stood up, his back aching from his work in a very uncomfortable position for hours. "Do you really think she knows I'm her father? So many people babysit her, I wonder if she has any idea who her parents are."

"Annie knows perfectly well!" Meg snapped annoyed, then turned back to her babbling baby, "Little Annie darling knows, right? Daddy is stupid! Daddy is a man and men are ignorant and silly." Annie laughed and suckled on Meg's jacket. The jacket was already drenched in the baby's slobber but Meg didn't seem to notice. "Shall we tell silly daddy the good news? Shall we, Little Annie?" Annie chortled, which Meg took as a yes. Erik wondered why everyone started to talk nonsense when holding Annie. Did she absorb the intelligence from adults somehow? Why was he immune to that effect?

He didn't say anything. Meg seemed to be so very happy as if Little Annie was some kind of drug and everyone who touched her or even looked at her was immediately intoxicated. Everyone but him, he mused, he loved the child but never felt that odd effect like a delirious state. But of course he would not say anything that would make Meg sad or angry.

"I got a letter from Christine," Meg explained, "I wrote her that you have financial worries and she immediately agreed to help."

"You... **what**? How could you? How could you shame me like this?" he yelled.

Annie started crying and Meg immediately soothed her: "Daddy doesn't mean it. Daddy is silly. Daddy loves Little Annie, Little Annie is a good girl." Erik rolled his eyes and crossed his arms before his breast, waiting for the explanation that might eventually come after a long speech in baby talk. He clenched his teeth and silently prayed for the gift of patience. He mustn't strike her especially not when she was holding the baby.

"Erik, she does not even know it is you. All she knows is that I am married to the manager of a variety who is building up an amusement park," Meg tried to reason with him, "And I wrote her that you have a pile of debts and need help. She sponanously offered to send money. Now I wrote her how bad it is and she wrote back that she asked her husband and he agreed immediately. Just give me a bank account number and they will make sure to transfer money. Raoul offered one hundred thousand dollars."

"One hundred thousand?" Erik gasped. It was unbelievable. This would save him, he could pay back some - certainly not all - debts and he could begin the renovation of the blocks of flats so he and his friends would be able to leave the dormitories and live in normal flats. Of course there wouldn't be a flat for each person, but at least they would have some privacy, everyone would get his or her own room. They would regain dignity as human beings. This was his salvation - and it came from the hands of the hated rival. "No. I won't accept that," he stated firmly.

"He does not offer a gift. He offers a loan, no interest asked, and you can pay it back whenever it is convenient to you. A loan is not degrading, is it?" Meg argued.

"It is more a gift than a loan!" Erik retorted angrily, "And I can't endure the humiliation of accepting such gift from him!"

"You can and you will!" Meg yelled, "Think of Little Annie! We are a family now, aren't we? A variety is no place to raise a child, we live in the kitchen and you in the freak's dormitories! You will swallow your pride, Mr. Erik Y, and accept that most gracious offer, do I make myself clear?"

He stared at her. She sounded just like her mother when she was bullying the dancers around. "And you, Madame, will not speak to me like this! I am your husband, you owe me respect and obedience!"

Annie cried. Loud and piercing. Erik clasped his hands over his ears, trying to shut out the terrible noise somehow. "Oooo, hush now, darling. Daddy doesn't mean it like that."

"If you keep telling her that I do not mean what I am saying she's never going to take me seriously," he complained, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, Mr. Erik Y - I'm waiting for your decision. What do you want? Loose everything thanks to your stiff necked pride or accept help from the Vicomte de Chagny?"

"It would have sounded much more tempting if you had not mentioned that name," he grumbled and looked at his daughter's face, struggling for a decision. "Well... for Annie. I do it for Annie."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _This chapter is a bit longer than intended but I did not want to cut it in two. Have a nice weekend!_

 _Maybe you even find the time to leave a review? Please?_


	33. Shameful Secret

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Shameful Secret**

As soon as Meg had written the letter to Christine - with Erik censoring it - she noticed a change in Erik. Again he turned from a state of depression and despair to exaggerated optimism and sedulous activity, beginning several new projects despite the fact that he had not finished the others! Now he began building automatons for the casino, mostly clever tricks that had nothing to do with luck and he or his helpers would be able to control if a customer would win or not.

He planned one of the former warehouses to be an indoor playground for girls called "Princess Castle" where every girl could design jewelry from cheap cut class and buy nice dresses that were made from cheap fabric only to look like a princess costume. They were easily made and could be made in some factory, obviously Erik had secured a contract with some factory to deliver these cheap dresses that would only look good but were cheap. There would be paper flowers, artificial trees and the walls would be painted to give the illusion that one was in the garden of a fantastic castle. And of course there would be ponies and butlers and governesses. Every girl could pretend to be a princess there - if her parents could afford the high entrance fee, the dress, the cut glass and other things she would need to be a princess for one day.

"I think Annie gave you that idea?" Meg asked, delighted that Erik created a special amusement center for girls only. Most amusement parks had many fun rides, exhibitions and playgrounds which would mostly attract boys. There was not much girls could do, girls would be required to sit with their parents in a cafe and that would be rather boring to a child. "Daddy's little princess is going to love it."

Erik shrugged and screwed together some apparatus for the secret hidden casino he wanted to finish before the next season would begin. The parts for the Hall of Wonders were still untouched stored away in some storage room. Everyone wondered if Erik would ever find the time to finish that Hall of Wonders.

Transferring such a large sum from Fance to America wasn't easy and it took weeks and lots of correspondence between Raoul and his bankers in Europe and Erik and his bankers in New York. But shortly after Christmas it was finally done and Erik got a notice that the money arrived and the bank waited for his instructions what to do.

Beginning of January Sam Singer returned from his trip to visit his family earlier and very furious - the last cheque Erik had given him was uncovered. "Where is that masked freak?" he yelled furiously, "If he does not pay immediately what's due I report him for fraud!"

"He's in the Nature Hall," was the answer. Sam Singer had been informed about some of Erik's schemes, but what was the Nature Hall supposed to be? Sometimes Sam wondered how Erik could come up with hundreds of new ideas in just a few weeks.

Erik was in the Nature Hall, he was absolutely excited to set up the items that had been delivered in large crates just that morning. Since he did not have enough exhibits to really fill the hall he set them up apart from each other to create the illusion that the hall was full and the spae between the exhibits was just because he expected so many customers that he just didn't have space for more exhibits. All exhibits were stuffed animals, in this case stuffed sharks.

"Every museum has stuffed lions and so on - but I am the only one who has suffed sharks!" he was excited like a small boy and his enthusiasm seemed to make the helpers happy as well. They were Squelch and Attamamma, Dr. Gängelmann and Meg who was dusting off the stuffed sharks.

"Mr. Y! Your cheque bounced!" Mr. Singer complained without any greeting.

"A yes, I suspected the money I was awaiting might be a little late. I'm sorry, it is not my fault that European banks are a bit... um... working slowly. I'll give you what is due in cash later," Erik replied lightly. He was actually leaping with joy as he grabbed Singer's arm and pulled him to one of the stuffed sharks.

"This is a great white shark," he exclaimed, "No one else has a stuffed great white shark. Do you see its teeth? It could bite you in half with just one bite!"

"I'm never ever going to swim," Meg shuddered as she was still busy dusting the shark's back.

"Nonsense. There are no sharks in the coast of New York," Erik replied playfully then reached for his pocket, "You think the great white shark is the main attraction? Wrong!" He waited a few moments to heighten the effect. "Absolutely wrong. Look at its teeth. And now behold this!" He took out a piece of velvet. Something was wrapped in the red velvet and Erik opened it carefully revealing a single tooth of a shark. A tooth - as long as Erik's hand!

Meg and Sam gasped in shock.

Erik held the tooth next to the white shark's jaws. "If you compare the teeth - this shark must have been about 20 meters long and if he swallowed me I could stand upright in his stomach. Little Annie could crawl through his aorta. 20 meters - that is larger than this hall."

"I'll never go near the ocean again," Meg gasped.

"Nonsense, my dear, these sharks became extinct long ago," Erik lectured and lovingly presented the gigantic tooth in his hands, "Carcharodon megalodon, that's how the scientists call this beauty." He was absolutely excited.

"Um, Erik, how did you buy these?" Singer asked, knowing Erik didn't have the money to buy a travelling exhibition, especially not something unique like these stuffed sharks. What had the masked man done? Singer doubted a single bank robbery would have brought in enough money for this purchase.

Meg winced. "Erik, that money was for paying back some debts so the interest you have to pay each year wouldn't be that exorbitant!" she berated him as she realized that Erik must have used the money he got fro the Vicomte to purchase that collection of sharks. True, this exhibition would bring in money, but not fast enough because if the entrance fee would be too high people would not come. What had he done now? What reckless scheme was that?

"Of course, my dear. Don't worry your lovely head," he replied innocently, "I know."

"Erik, what have you done?" it Dr. Gängelmann, he stood before Erik, his eyes narrowing, "What have you done?"

"O you boring unimaginative unbelievers!" Erik laughed and carefully wrapped the tooth before pocketing it again, "I bought the exhibition and will use the money to reduce the debts."

"But... how?" Meg asked, "Raoul send you money once, he won't give you the same sum again!"

"No need. I have the money."

"But you paid for the sharks? You can't have stolen them?" Johann asked.

"Of course. I just got the money back," Erik shrugged it off, causing everyone except him to shudder. He had stolen it.

"And if the seller sues you?"

"He won't," Erik stated matter of factly and went back to working on the podest where he wanted to exhibit the megalodon tooth. It would be hidden in something that looked much like a small pillar and a miniature elevator would lift the tooth when one would press a certain lever.

"Erik! What did you do?" Johann asked again. Erik turned round to find himself cornered - Squelch, Attamamma, Johann stood before him, behind them Meg and Sam Singer.

"I told you everything you have to know," he said coldly and crossed his arms before his breast.

Joe narrowed his eyes. "Attamamma, please escort Mr. Samuel Singer back to the variety. I'm sure he needs to fire the stoves in his penthouse or the night will be very cold," he said, still staring at Erik not even blinking, "And close the door when you leave."

* * *

Meg wondered why Dr. Gängelmann would allow her to stay and what Erik would tell them now. She was glad to stand behind Squelch who was strong enough to deal with Erik should he lose his temper.

"Now that no one overhears - what did you do?" Dr. Gängelmann inquired.

"Nothing," Erik replied but it was obvious that he felt uncomfortable.

"Like you did not cause the accident that killed seven workmen? Like you did not steal? Like you did not impregnate an innocent girl like Meg?" The tall doctor knew Erik far too well by now. Meg was surprised that Erik - who usually was the master of them all - suddenly didn't seem so sure of himself any longer. Was it possible that in truth the doctor had more authority than Erik, at least when they were alone and not seen by anyone?

Erik hissed his answer in a very aggressive tone: "He can't sue me for stealing exhibits when he's one himself! If he ever dares I won't answer for anything!"

Dr. Gängelmann nearly fainted. "No! Do not tell me that you intend not to buy an Egyptian mummy but to make one yourself of your murder victim!" he gasped.

"Mummy?" Meg asked fighting to keep her stomach under control.

"I thought a mummy would be a nice exhibit at the exit of my tunnel of horrors..." Erik spread his arms and smiled as if he was slightly amused and actually proud of himself.

Meg was sick, but the men ignored her completely.

"Erik, that is not you! You are not like this!" Squelch gasped in shock. Erik seemed to need some headache-pills for he took the tiny blue metal box out of his pocket.

"You are eating these pills like they were candies," Dr. Gängelmann inquired, "What is it?"

"Nothing." Nothing was the worst answer Erik could give now that his friend already was suspicious. He noticed his error and defended himself immediately: "Completely harmless. It's cocaine, the same stuff toothache drops for children contain, just a slightly higher dosage. The Austrian doctor with that curious name tested it himself and says it is harmless but heightens concentration and stamina. It's true, I can work much longer..."

"You irresponsible fool! I told you not to blindly trust any doctor's opinion! Just because something is new and advertised by doctors does not prove it to be safe!" Dr. Gängelmann shouted, "Just look what it does to you - now I know the reason for your sudden mood-swings from deepest depression to overbearing arrogance and optimism! Its these damnable drugs and you are eating these pills like candies!"

"Nonsense. If it is used for toothache drops for children it cannot be that dangerous," Erik reasoned.

"Ha!" Dr. Gängelmann exclaimed, "After one year you fail to see what this drug does to you? It makes you completely unreasonable and reckless. We need you sober and in full possession of your formidable mind - especially when the situation is as bad as it is now. So either you hand over these pills and agree to begin withdrawal immediately or we have to force you."

"I tell you it is harmless. So no withdrawal will be necessary."

"Prove it! If you do not take one pill a whole week and show no signs of withdrawal and no change in your behavior, I'll change my mind and humbly apologize. If not, you never touch these pills again," Dr. Gängelmann challenged, knowing fully well Erik could not resist any challenge when he was in an extatic mood like he was now.

"Done!" Erik agreed immediately, confirming to the other one's eyes that the drugs really made him completely unreasonable and recklessly daring. Meg dared to hope that maybe Erik was not such a monster as she had assumed - that it was the drugs that drove him to this.

* * *

Just how wrong he was and how right the Prussian doctor was he learned that evening. He grew tired, o so very tired. He just sat in the canteen, unable to lift the spoon and eat, unable to do anything. The usual chaos at dinner time - midnight of course - seemed to happen too fast for him to follow. He felt like he had left the normal time and was trapped in some weird bubble where time was much slower - only through the glas of the bubble he saw what happened outside and it seemed to happen so very fast, faster than he could think.

Meg sat down beside him, holding Little Annie in her arms. "Look, there is Daaaaaaddyyyyyy!" Meg exclaimed cheerfully and Erik wondered if Annie would ever learn proper language if Meg started babbling like a baby around her daughter.

"Can Little Annie say Daaaaaddyyyyy? Say Daaaaaddyyyyy!" Antoinette supported, sitting at the other side of the table. Just great. Another woman babbling like a baby. That was precisely what he did not need now. He just wanted to be left in peace and enjoy darkness and quite. He missed the catacombs so much, in the catacombs it was dark, silent and the climate was always the same each and every day. True, it was never really warm, but at the same time never really cold either. He had liked the catacombs. The only time when and place where he had never suffered headache.

"O Annie, please say Daddy so these two foolish women finally cease their prattling!" Erik sighed.

"Dadadadada!" Annie babbled and laughed, clapping her hands. Erik noticed that the child was wearing a pink knit jacket, pink knit pants, pink socks and pink mittens. Obviously Meg had learned knitting sometimes during the last months of her pregnancy and someone must have provided her with lots and lots of pink wool. He wondered what Meg would do now if the child was a boy. Surely she wouldn't dress a boy in pink, would she?

"You didn't eat anything," Meg said, "I thought you liked porridge?"

"Can't you leave me in peace for one moment?" he snapped annoyed, "I do not want to talk, I do not want to see anyone, just shut up and leave me alone!"

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Unfortunately it was true - cocaine was considered harmless, it was really used as medicine in toothache drops for children, it was used in cigarettes, it was used to help morphine addicts against the painful withdrawal. Dr. Sigmund Freud considered it enhancing concentration and stamina but without any negative side-effects. Well, needless to say, he was wrong._

 _Erik, loving science and well informed of the current state of scientific knowledge, does know that this new stuff, this cocaine, is considered harmless by almost every doctor and helps enhancing the ability to work and lessens the need to rest. Erik used the pills to survive the last year, unfortunately thinking them 'safe'. Dr. Gängelmann knows - from some experience - that cocaine can lead to erratic behavior, recklessness and mood-swings (from depression in withdrawal to over-confidence and a 'I can do everything' feeling and blindness for one's mistakes and risks - and the consequences of one's actions)._

 _In the late 1890's another drug was found - as a 'save alternative to morphine, absolutely non_ _-addictive' and perfect cough suppressant: Heroin._

 _Today it is known just how dangerous these drugs are and therefor they are forbidden!_

 _Swiss naturalist Louis Agassiz gave the shark its initial scientific name, Carcharodon megalodon, in 1835, in his research work Recherches sur les poissons fossiles (Research on fossil fish), which he completed in 1843._


	34. New Year Dawning

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **New Year Dawning**

Erik fell in deep depression. He was unable to get up in the morning, unable to get dressed, unable to eat. He just could not bring himself to do anything. Everything seemed to be useless and he felt so very tired. This was to be expected, but when he did not get better after the fifth day his friends were very worried.

Erik felt so terribly tired, exhausted and absolutely worthless. Whatever he had done, every decision in his life, everything had been wrong. He was an absolute failure. It would have been better, had his mother killed him soon after birth. Better for everyone and everything, even for himself. He should end it now before he would cause more suffering for himself and his friends and family. He sat up, but couldn't bring himself to stand up. It was cold, but he could not bring himself to stand up or even lie down again, he could not even cover himself in his blankets again. He was unable to do anything now. Hopefully the coldness would kill him for he wouldn't be able to do anything now. Someone grabbed him and put him back to bed, covering him in blankets and even placing a stone that had been warmed up on the stove in his bed to get his feet warmer. He didn't even feel his toes by then. All he could think of then was that he was even unable to kill himself - he couldn't even do that. He was a complete failure.

It was hard to see him like that, lying on the bed, unable to do anything for he felt so extremely tired and could not bring himself to do anything. If he was speaking at all he was cursing himself, calling himself a monster who failed in every possible way and everyone would be better off if he was dead. It was painful for his friends to hear that, but especially then they didn't dare leaving him alone. They had to force him to eat and drink or he might have starved.

"The after-effect of the cocaine pills," Dr. Gängelmann lectured, "They turned him up and now he feels all the exhaustion he suppressed before." Knowing what had happened did not help. Everyone was worried, especially the doctor who knew that even if cocaine withdrawal did not cause physical pain the patient would be suicidal or trying to get the drug. Erik lacked the motivation right now to do anything, he was too depressed to kill himself or try to get drugs, but as soon as he would get better he might do something stupid. So they put up a schedule so Erik would never be alone, not one second, not even in the bathroom. A man with Erik's experience would be able to kill himself within mere seconds with seemingly harmless tools.

It was Meg's shift to sit with him one afternoon. Everyone else had gathered in the canteen for it was warmer there. Madame Giry was babysitting Little Annie.

"Erik?" Meg asked, not willing to see him lying on his bed staring at the ceiling any longer. She had already checked his pulse to see if he was still alive for he didn't even blink regularly. He looked like he was dead.

"Leave me in peace," he whispered.

"I want to help you."

Suddenly he sat up, his eyes burning with anger as he yelled at her: "I do not want your help! There is no way of helping me! Can't you see it is all over? Take Annie and run! Run away, save yourself! Let me burn in hell!"

"Erik..." she put a hand on his arm, "I am your wife now. Like it or not, I cannot leave you."

"You can and you should. I'm a monster! God, what have I done?" He buried his face in his hands but found that he could not even cry. Tears were a comfort he was denied now.

"Did you really kill that showman? The one with the stuffed sharks?" Meg asked.

He shook his head. "No. I planned to, if he would sue me. I just robbed him and left him lying in the streets. I planned to mummify his corpse and exhibit it in the tunnel of horrors." He laughed bitterly. "I was mad, Meg. Really mad. I thought this was... funny. A perfect irony. A real corpse in the tunnel of horrors. Well, a tunnel of horrors should give you the creeps, shouldn't it?"

"You did not kill him?" Meg asked, her relief almost palpable. She had been sure he had already killed the man.

"No."

"Why not?" she asked, at the same time anxious for the answer and scared.

"Because... I have a child. I decided to cut down my murders to absolute minimum. For Annie. But she will never love me, miserable failure that I am." His answer came in a childlike voice as if he was a small child himself, begging his mother to love him. Meg knew that his mother had wanted him dead and suddenly her heart went out to him. She gently stroked his arm.

"She will adore her father," she promised.

"I hated my parents and they hated me," Erik replied, and sighed, "No child loves its parents unconditionally."

"She will love you if you are a good father to her," Meg answered, then sniffed: "And you need a wash, Monsieur, and to get up again. Lying round lazy is doing no good."

He sighed. "I'm so very tired. If I could take just one..."

"No! Certainly not! No drugs, not again! They make you even more crazy than you already are!"

"Thanks for the compliment!" he snapped sarcastically.

* * *

After a bit more than a week later Erik was back on his feet but he still needed constant supervision to make sure he would not give in to the craving for the drug he obviously felt but refused to confess. Erik pretended everything was alright when it was clearly not. It was already February and he had not written one single note for the new shows and the Hall of Wonders had only two exhibits: the mechanic wolf and a second automaton, a mechanic horse that could walk rounds. If the visitors were not too heavy they could even ride it. The fascinating novelty was that the horse really lifted one leg after the other to walk, even if there was a steel rope to secure it and prevent it from falling. And to supply the needed energy - there was a cable hidden in the steel rope.

Erik was not able to do anything, but they hoped to bring his attention to the music when they finally sat in his office for the first meeting to discuss the new shows. There was Erik as the composer - if he would somehow bring himself to do anything that is - Madame Giry as the ballet mistress, Vincent the artist, Benny the librettist, the He-She the costume designer, Giant Joe just to make sure Erik was still clean, and Mr. Singer who was in charge for the second variety, that with the adults-only-shows.

Sam Singer was actually happy with the arrangement. He had already gotten the price for the variety and got a princly fee each year for taking no risk and working a few hours a year. It was far better than being in charge of everything, taking the financial risk and constantly fighting to keep everyone in line. Being a well-paid consultant was much better than being the owner and manager of a variety.

"We need some ideas," Benny said, "I can write almost everything but what could that be?"

"Who cares? Just have some naked girls moving on the stage like cats on heat. That's guaranteed to be a hit, even if the text is 'meow meow meow'!" Erik snapped. He hated the planning, he hated the variety, he hated the shows, he hated the park - right now he hated everything and everyone, except Little Annie.

Everyone stared at him. He had never shown that much contempt for the shows, even if everyone knew that he himself preferred classical ballet and opera.

Mr. Singer spoke first, taking notes on a sheet of paper. "Why not? If a circus can have snake girls we can have cat-girls," he stated and turned to the He-She, "Do you think you can come up with any costumes?"

The He-She was at a loss. "Just have them naked and paint the cat's fur on their skin?" he/she asked, not knowing how to do a cats costume that would not suffocate the girls in the heat of the summer during the many shows they would have to do. Surely they could never use real fur.

Erik groaned. "Meow meow meow. Wonderful. I need two notes and that's it," he sneered.

"I do not like it either, but you, Monsieur Genius, did not have any idea at all," Antoinette Giry rebuked him, "You really have to control yourself."

"Madame, he's ill, show some understanding!" Johann scolded her.

"Ill? I tell you what he is - selfish!" Madame got het up, "He is wallowing in self-pity and all he needs is to man up!"

"Are you a medical doctor or not? No? Kindly shut up!"

Everyone was silent. They actually liked how the Prussian doctor always silenced Madame Giry who had everyone scared. Erik couldn't help wondering if she would have made a much better Phantom than himself - she didn't need threats, just her stare and her sharp tongue. Maybe because she was the perfect governess she was so very effective - everyone had been trained to obey the governess as a child and her impersonation of a demanding governess was so perfect, everyone snapped back into the obedience that had been beaten into them as small children.

"Well... maybe this is more for the kid's show. Some fairy tale about an abandoned kitten who finds a new home?" Benny suggested, "I could write something. Kitten gets lost, meets bad people and bad dogs, survives and is finally adopted by a rich sweet little girl."

"For all I care," Erik sighed, "I'll try something. But the show won't be longer than 20 minutes."

"For all **you** care," Madame Giry spat, "You already made clear that you hate the show."

"Stop it!" Dr. Gängelmann shouted and slammed his fist on the table, "Madame, you stick to ballet! Do your job and do not forget that he is not just your son in law but also your boss - and now apologize to him!"

Madame Giry was speechless. She was absolutely not used to being treated like this, but the tall Prussian was absolutely relaxed and suddenly she realized what he was doing: he was protecting Erik as she had once. And in one thing he was right - Erik was her son in law. As her boss she would never apologize to him but as the father of her grandchild, yes, she should make sure they had some peace. "Erik? I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," she mumbled.

Erik studied her, understanding how difficult it was for the proud woman to back down. "Apology accepted," he said and began playing with his pencil.

"One new show isn't much," Singer threw in, "And I still do not have anything for the adults show."

"Harem?" Benny suggested, "The Orient is quite in fashion. Maybe we can have belly dancers?"

"Good idea! At least I won't have do do anything for they usually have their own music!" Erik growled. Madame Giry rolled her eyes but kept silent.

Vincent was sketching on his paper. "Here. What do you think about an enlarged garbage yard for the cat?" he showed them his sketch. It showed a girl whose dress was the color of a spotted cat standing before a broken shoe that was larger than her.

"For all I care," Erik sighed, obviously not interested in the meeting at all, no matter how important it was. At least he was sketching something now. He had an idea he absolutely loved - he wanted to build a model of a megalodon, allowing children to climb into the mouth and crawl through the intestinal tract and leave the fish at the back. He thought that absolutely funny and children - especially boys - would love that. Their parents would not, but this didn't matter.

"Okay, I'll go looking for belly dancers," Singer rolled his eyes. Right now he wondered how the chaos the masked man constantly managed to create always lead to something useful. God created the chaos and then the world - maybe Erik's ego demanded that he would follow that procedure.

"What are you drawing?" Vincent asked "A shark?"

"Could you do this as a prop for the Hall of Wonders - in leather and wood so the kids can't do too much damage? It does not need to be in any way realistic."

"Too large," Vincent replied, "But since it is 20 meters long we could do it as a wooden building on the beach. Without the intestinal tract."

"You could have a photographer there so people could have a picture taken with that shark," Singer threw in.

Erik nodded. "I never thought I'd say that - but you are a good consultant."

"We have two new ideas - which isn't much for the whole season," Benny complained.

"Then do something useful and make some suggestion!" Erik snapped, "I wonder why I keep you around."

"Because your English is too bad to get acceptable lyrics?"

"Acceptable lyrics, acceptable plots... HA! This is nonsense!" Erik jumped to his feet and began pacing the room. Everyone held his breath waiting for the ranting that would begin now. It was inevitable that Erik complained about not doing superior operas but cheap trash. But operas never brought in that much money and vaudeville trash of a high quality was almost as trying as an opera. "These stupid tasteless uneducated idiots - they would accept every idiotic idea as a plot if it is just nicely decorated in some tin-pan-tunes and beautiful girls and some fancy new machines." He grabbed a stone he used as paperweight and threw it against the wall, leaving some gouge in the cheap painting. Not that it mattered, the walls of that room were a mess already - including the blotch from the red wine bottle he had thrown against the wall in one of his fits.

"For God's sake I could tell them that a steam engine falls in love with a wagon and they would believe it!" Erik threw his arms up theatrically to express his distress over the stupidity of the world.

"Wait - that sounds like a good idea to me!" Mr. Singer cut in, "It would have everything: a love story, machines, automated magic tricks..."

"O no!" Erik groaned, "Forget I mentioned it!"

"I like the idea. Just a nice love duet with the other steam engines and wagons as choir," Benny cut in, "A short number, but why not? Would make a nice little show."

"And what would the text be? Choo choo choo clang bang boom?" Erik sneered.

Madame Giry sighed in relief as she saw Erik being back to his contemptuous sneering self. That was the Erik she knew - looking down on everyone and everything. She wondered briefly if he would have criticized the Lord himself if Erik had been there at the creation at the beginning of all time. She assumed Erik would certainly frown upon the many imperfections of the world.

"I do not know why you are that angry. Johann Strauss wrote a polka called 'Pleasure Train' and it is good, isn't it?" Benny retorted.

Erik stopped pacing and thought of it. "Well... yes," he reluctantly admitted, "It's not that bad. Let's see if there is enough wine..."

"NO!" Dr. Gängelmann exclaimed, "No alcohol!"

"Opium?"

"Are you mad? Certainly not!"

"Cigarettes?"

"No no and no! I know that you would only buy the cigarettes with cocaine!"

"And how am I supposed the lower my intellect enough to compose something that stupid?" Erik complained. He reminded everyone of a sulking toddler right now.

They glared at each other, but it was clear from the beginning that Erik would back down before he had to admit addiction.

"Maybe something a bit darker? Something with much magic tricks?" Singer suggested.

"What would that be?" the He-She asked, he/she was reluctant to enter another heated discussion, Erik was too close to loosing his temper for his/her taste.

"Beauty and the Beast?" Singer suggested, "That's a French fairy tale."

"NO!" Erik roared and if Madame Giry and Dr. Gängelmann hadn't caught his arm in time he would have punched the fat rat of a man for this insult. Even if it was not intended, Singer could not know Erik strongly disliked that fairy tale.

"Too outdated? Well, yes, witches and so is so... Middle Ages," Singer stayed calm, "Maybe a modern version of that. An urban legend I once read about in some newspaper - the Phantom of the Opera?"

Madame Giry was hyperventilating and Erik held his breath as if he was never going to breathe again, both stood petrified in shock. What did the fat man with the dark eyes know? That little Coney-Island-rat had some information about their past or was he just innocently telling of an urban legend he had heard about?

"I'm not sure... I do not think this would be a good idea," Dr. Gängelmann replied diplomatically as he noticed that Erik was not able to say something.

Singer shrugged. "We wouldn't have anyone ugly enough to play the Phantom anyways."

Madame Giry fainted.

Erik couldn't hold back any longer and broke down hysterically laughing. No one ugly enough to play the Phantom of the Opera! It was ridiculous! He was not ugly - not ugly enough! Never had anyone called him not ugly enough and now that, not ugly enough to play himself! He sank to the floor as his knees gave way in his laughing fit.

Dr. Gängelmann carefully loosened Madame Giry's corset to allow her to breathe again while the He-She tried to shake Erik to snap him out of his hysterical fit.

"Sorry," a really embarrassed and worried Mr. Singer said, "I forgot they are from Paris. They must have been there when the terrible accident happened."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _I guess it is not too hard to figure out what gave me the ideas for this chapter, was it? ;-P_

 _Singer obviously read a French newspaper article describing the Phantom's deformity being much more terrifying than it is in reality and does not suspect the truth, does he?_

 _Next chapter will be up Friday!_


	35. Servant of Too Many Masters

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Servant of Too Many Masters**

 _author's note: This chapter will be divided in 3 chapters for it would be too long otherwise._

With some new shows, parts of the park still under construction, the new exhibition and the Hall of Wonders - which had only two "wonders" so the entrance fee had to be really low - there was a certain income.

Erik still was under constant surveillance by the dutiful doctor, which was good for he was very creative trying to escape to get something to dull the craving he felt. He had never thought he would want something so badly as this damnable drug. As long as he knew that and wanted to resist, he could do so. The cruel thing with drugs was that there was a point when he was so weary, so tired, he just wanted to give up. He wanted to lie down and never get up again, he wanted to sleep and never wake up again and this was the point when he did not want to fight any longer. The point he just wanted some - any - respite from the constant tornment, the constant pain in his chest.

It was then when he needed someone to tell him not to use alcohol or drugs to cope but should just go to bed and try to sleep. At first this meant he needed to sleep up to eighteen hours a day eventually, which was not surprising, he needed rest after what he had been through, but that slowed him down and affected his work. He was the only one for magic shows, even if he tried to find someone else to act as magician, no one had his commanding presence and grace. And he could not bring himself to share the secret of his tricks anyways.

It was not easy to stay clean for any kind of alcohol and drugs was easily available to him, he owned the "cafe" with the hidden opium den in the cellars and the tennant who was running the "cafe" was quite willing to pay part of his rent not in money but in "naturals". The tennant wanted to stay and not have Erik cancelling the contract and take in another tennant who offered to pay more or run the cafe himself like he had done with the casino so he offered that Erik could come whenever he wanted to and get anything he wanted for free. It was extremely difficult for Erik to withstand the temptation to go there and ask for the cigarettes with cocain or pills or even something to help him to relax after a hard day when it was easily available for free.

But he had to get back on his feet, people needed to see him on stage and at daytime in the park. They loved him, especially the children, even if Erik could not understand that. He certainly had no love lost for his audience, to him they were just like cows he had to milk. The happier they were the more milk they would give, cows and people alike. So he had to keep his customers happy, even if he disliked them and longed for the silence, darkness and privacy of the catacombs. O yes, the cellars - dark, silent, peaceful. He considered digging himself some cellar, but that was difficult so close to the sea. It had been hard enough and used up far too much bitumen to seal the cellars for the opium den and the illegal casino.

* * *

It did not take too long until Bruno Riccy showed up again, asking Erik to bring some fairground men in line who refused to pay the 'insurance'. Erik knew this was a test and so he just went to these men, usually in the morning, and gave the 'friendly advise' as neighbor that an insurance was really a great idea for 'accidents do happen'. He took care not to say anything that would be a crime or bring him close to any extortion. But an insurance is not extortion, isn't it? And if one didn't accept his reasoning that even he had suffered terrible accidents and therefore knew what he was talking about, he went away, shrugging but never uttering any threat at all.

Riccy - who shadowed him as much as he could - was surprised at the subtlety Erik used. No threats. No damages, no beatings, not even injuries except a few minor bruises. But accidents happened, usually the intended victim or one of his family members escaped death or severe injury by a hair's breadth. To Riccy's great surprise this was by far more effective than direct threats or beatings, yes, even more effective than the occasional killing to make an example of someone. It was by far easier than taking hostages but it worked in the same way - the intended victim knew that he and his beloved ones were not safe. Any time some accident could happen and injure or kill someone.

One even called the police, but when the police did absolutely nothing, they found it was just an unfortunate accident and nothing had really happened, most gave in accepting to get themselves some fake insurance from Riccy. And none of them knew if the Masked Magician worked with the notorious Boss or if he himself was a victim who just tried to survive somehow and warn others so they wouldn't suffer as he had. After all, he had the scars to prove that he had received a severe beating not just once in his life.

Riccy's thugs got a new job, they were put up against the small-time criminals, most of them pickpockets or inebriated people who would leave much dirt in the streets and disgust the well-paying customers. Of course now no one complained about the thugs for they did a much more effective job than the police had ever done in scaring away lowlifes.

* * *

Little Annie soon became a demanding child, she loved to be wheeled around in her pram. She loved the sunshine, the many colors, the sea and the theme park. She loved it when Meg took her "looking for daddy", running through the park but never the dark area, trying to locate Erik who was inspecting or overseeing something again. He was quite busy, again torn between renovation and building work, his magic shows which he didn't want to cancel completely and his other work for Riccy, which was somehow at the same time working for the prosecutor.

But whenever he saw Meg running, pushing the pram - Little Annie never tolerated anyone walking slowly, one had to run fast with her, then she would laugh - he stopped to greet his daughter. Annie knew him now, he was sure of that, she always laughed and reached out for him so he would take her in his arms. And he felt a pleasant feeling of joy whenever he held her. She loved him so much and he could not deny that he loved her too. She was his joy, even if it was only for brief moments. He needed those brief moments so much.

Annie was six months old when she became restless. She had her favorite toy - an old wooden spoon the cook had given her - and with that she hit everything within her reach and laughed if it made a noise. Unfortunately she hit everyone in her reach too and sometimes even threw the spoon, usually missing her target, but crying loudly when the spoon was not returned to her immediately. With her crying she could terrorize the whole variety much to her father's amusement. One little cry from Little Annie and everyone rushed to search her spoon, to carry her around, change her nappies, bathe her or feed her or just play with her.

Sometimes Erik wondered what it would be like to have Annie back in the Opera in Paris. Not that Meg would ever have agreed to see him that time, certainly not, but... well, maybe Annie would soon terrorize the Opera as well. Meg and he laughed when he told her about his amusing daydream. "If these demands are ignored - a crying baby will be in your office."

Meg almost burst with laughter and replied: "At least there would have been someone doing more yelling than Carlotta!"

Erik decided that he had to favour the renovation of the blocks of flats he had bought. It was no longer possible to live in the variety since Little Annie learned speaking - no real words, but she had different syllables for different people or things only the adults couldn't understand her - and became somewhat mobile. She could crawl around and made a habit of finding holes. If there was a hole, she tried to crawl into it, far too often getting struck. "Must be hereditary," her grandmother groaned as Squelch had to lift a cupboard for the umpteenth time because the baby had used the split second no one looked to crawl under it and of course she got struck.

"Why?" the strongman asked, "Was Meg like her?"

"No," Madame Giry pulled out the crying baby and dusted her off, especially taking the spider webs out of her blonde hair, "The father. He always loved to hide himself."

Squelch laughed and took Annie in his hands, holding her up high above his head. "If this girl comes after her father, we are in for much trouble."

It did not take long until Annie tried to hit Erik with her wooden spoon during dinner. She had already hit her mother and grandmother - both of them having bruises on their hands now - and smashed her bowl of porridge on the floor. While her grandmother was still busy wiping up the mess Meg tried to spoon-feed the baby. "Come on, darling, one bite. It's good. Annie, darling, please..."

"Why bother if she's not hungry? Let her skip dinner and she won't do it again too soon," Erik growled, "You are spoiling her completely. You and your stupid modernistic ideas about childhood."

"And what would you do? Allow her to starve?"

"If she's hungry, she'll eat," Erik answered, "If she doesn't, she's not hungry."

That moment Annie hit his hand with her wooden spoon. Erik didn't even look up, he still ate his soup, but with his left hand he took the spoon from her hand and hit her with it and handed the spoon back before Annie had recovered from her shock enough to cry.

"Erik! You can't hit a baby!" Meg scolded him.

"Of course I can and I will. I won't do any damage, but she has to learn that if she strikes out someone will strike back," Erik replied calmly, knowing this would not be the last quarrel over methods of education they had. But it worked - Annie never hit him with the spoon again. She only hit those she knew not to strike back.

* * *

Dr. Gängelmann soon found out that Erik could control the constant craving for drugs - any intoxication - better when he was alone. The more time he could spend in his office or his workshop alone, the better. Save for Little Annie: Erik constructed a wooden cage, placed a soft blanket in it and sat her in the small wooden cage. The baby was happy watching her father at work, she could do that for hours and would only cry when she was hungry. "I've always been a good entertainer," Erik smiled proudly when he explained that he too wanted his time with her, he was becoming jealous of all the baby sitters who spend so much more time with his child than he did.

It was a curious sight, the baby in the cage chewing on her wooden spoon - she just got her first tooth - and Erik working constantly talking to her. They got along well - Erik was constantly telling his daughter what he was doing, not caring if she understood him or not, even switching from one language into another one. Annie loved watching him. She would play with her spoon, pretending it to be a screwdriver, to twist it between the wooden boards of her tiny cage and bang it against the boards. "Are you going to be a drummer?" Erik asked, rising one eyebrow, "I've never heard about a female drummer, but why not?"

Everyone dreaded the day Erik would buy her a real drum.

And one day in spring Annie decided to speak her first word. Erik was making a spectacle about opening the new attraction - the wooden megalodon lying in the open. A large crowd stood there, even two journalists and a photographer, listening to Erik's scientific explanations. He stood there lecturing as if he himself was a scientist who had done nothing than studying this special shark species all his life. Of course he hadn't, he had just read something in two books and made up a lot which he didn't really know.

Erik spotted Meg with the pram in the crowd and gestured for her to come to him, to stand next to the gigantic wooden shark model. She did and Erik presented her to the crowd: "May I introduce to you - my lovely assistant and wife, Meg. And..." he took Annie out of her pram and held her on his arms for everyone to see "...our new boss!"

Laughter rose from the crowd, almost everyone was married and had children so they understood very well what he was talking about.

Annie chose that moment to speak her first word: "Megalodon," she said, pointing to the shark and laughed. She seemed to capture everyone's heart now. Such a clever child! Erik was beaming with pride. Meg wasn't that happy. The first word her daughter ever used was the name of an extinct shark. Not mama, not papa, not mum or dad, no, a shark. What did this say about her daughter?

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 _to be continued_


	36. Servant of Too Many Masters (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Servant of Too Many Masters (cont.)**

* * *

It was early morning on a summer day when Meg went with her daughter for a walk. The baby had chosen to get up early and to allow everyone else to sleep at least three more hours she had no choice but to have a walk. She went to the beach, which was empty in the morning, and walked up and down, pushing Annie in her pram.

When she reached the end of the beach with the tide-generator she saw Erik standing there, staring at the sea. "Oooo look, there's daddy!" she exclaimed happily and Annie replied: "Daddy!"

Erik barely acknowledged their presence. He stood there, staring at something at the generator building. "Someone left a flower there," he mused.

"Yes, for the workers who died here. That was me. I think at least someone should remember them," Meg replied softly. It was not an accusation, just a statement.

Erik looked at her, then from her to Annie, then to the flowers. "And how did you buy that flower?"

"You are paying your employees now, remember? Not much, but I can afford to buy a flower."

He nodded. "I wish I could go back in time," he said softly, "But I cannot. It is... not just this. The men who died in Paris. The men who died before... before you were even born. I never lead a peaceful life."

Annie began crying and Meg sighed. "I'm standing here too long. She wants to be moving all the time."

Erik smiled. "She is easily angered, isn't she?" When he saw that Meg just started running with the pram and Annie laughed in excitement Erik run after her, it looked like he was chasing her, but he just wanted to catch up to walk with her.

"You are... fast..." Erik was a bit out of breath when he reached her.

"Annie is like her grandmother - a merciless hurrier!" Meg replied.

"Meg... thank you. For buying that flower."

* * *

That night Erik sneaked out of the dormitory to the kitchen to see his baby. Annie was asleep, but Meg was awake.

"Do you do that often?" she asked, "Watching us sleep?"

Erik shrugged, embarrassed that she had noticed him. "Well... yes. I like to watch her sleep." He looked at Meg. "Soon we will have a flat. The flats are all the same: four small bedrooms, a parlor and a kitchen. One could put up a copper bathtub in the kitchen to have a bath. Toilets and a communal water tap in the ground floor. No luxury, just normal flats, but... we would have some privacy."

"Sounds too good to be true," Meg beamed with happiness, "It would be just we, Annie and mother."

Erik frowned. "Antoinette? I... um... well..." He didn't like the thought of having her in his flat all the time. "Maybe we need the additional space and she moves in with three ladies from the orchestra?"

"What would we need two empty rooms for?" Meg asked.

Erik counted, using his fingers: "One for Annie. One for you and one for me." He noticed that Meg's face fell in disappointment. "You said I snore and you want separate rooms," he defended himself.

"And one for...?"

"Maybe Annie wants a little brother eventually," he replied lightly, "or maybe a sister?"

"Maybe..." she answered blushing. Here? Now? In the canteen of the variety? Well, it was not weirder than his workshop. Just the moment he reached out to test if she would refuse him or not Annie began crying.

Meg took her in her arms and gently rocked her, trying to calm her. "What is it now?" Erik asked annoyed. The baby shouldn't be up now, it was definitely not her time. And she stayed up, starting to cry every time her mother tried to lay her down on the pillow. She stayed up for more than two hours. Two hours! Erik was annoyed to a point he considered just drugging the crying baby into oblivion, but didn't dare suggesting it.

"I guess that is a crystal clear no," Erik sighed in frustration, "Annie does not want a sibling." He left and headed to the dormitory to get some sleep. That moment Annie yawned and went back to sleep.

* * *

Erik did not have much time to wonder if Annie would approve of a sibling or not for Riccy send for him only days later, telling him to come to his office as soon as possible. He relied heavily on Erik taking care of problems now, knowing that Erik could do it without risking any problems with the judicial system. No prosecutor and no judge would ever be able to prove how Erik created the misfortunes and accidents that happened at the right time to the right person. It was much less dirty than the thugs who would beat up someone - it was a gentleman's way and Riccy highly appreciated that for he wanted to present himself as a gentlemen in New York where the upper class resided.

And now it was Riccy's time to do a favor to a certain politician. That man had a mistress and unfortunately she refused abortion. Having an illegitimate child could end his political career, even if he denied knowing her. The scandal would be enough that his party would ask him to resign immediately. So the girl had to go. She was just a black maid who was working in his household. Of course he could dismiss her but once she spoke about the reason to his political enemies it would be difficult to avoid a scandal. A white upper class politician in bed with his black maid? Unthinkable! He would be disgraced and unfit for any political career.

Riccy suggested to the politician that he knew someone who might be able to take care of that particular problem. Only it was socially impossible to get acquainted with that man for he was a circus freak from Coney Island. But of course the politician could meet him in Riccy's office.

So the three men met, Erik had a hard time not letting the other two know how nervous he was. When he learned of the problem - of course no one mentioned the real happenings only that the maid was pregnant and threatened to accuse her employer - the little extortionist, as the politician indignantly remarked - Erik felt bad. He could guess what had happened anyways and so would everyone who learned of the story. He strongly disliked the idea of killing a woman with child, no matter if she really tried extortion or not. Since he had Annie the mere thought that he himself had suggested abortion and even thought about killing Meg made him cringe in horror now. He would never want to live one day without his darling little baby.

But of course he could not say no now. He was absolutely sure that black girl would have some knowledge about her employer the prosecutor would be eager to hear - even if a black girl's word wouldn't count much against the word of an honorable man, she might know something that could help. "Maybe she just runs away to hide her shame?" Erik suggested.

"It would spare me the trouble of reporting her for blackmail first," the politician answered, "I guess you know someone who can talk sense into that whore?"

"I think so," Erik replied diplomatically, "But I need a chance to see her. Is there any way I can officially enter your house without causing a scandal?"

"Um... well... I don't know..." the politician was at a loss.

"Maybe one of your children will want a private magic show?" Erik suggested. It was humiliating not to be accepted as equal, as just another businessman - in America businessmen seemed to be what aristocrats were in Europe in the social ranking - but just an inferior entertainer, but he would have to swallow his pride for now.

* * *

It worked. The politician's son and his friends were absolutely excited of having a private magic show at home in their parlor and Erik got a chance to talk to the maid alone in the kitchen since when the guests had a rather formal dinner - who gives a formal dinner party for a seven year old boy? - Erik was in the kitchen. No one ever asked him to do, it was obviously expected of him to do his job and then not bother anyone of the household again, but of course he could have the same food everyone else had if he ate in the kitchen.

This was his chance, but he had to be very careful. He asked the maid - who had to serve him but she was really scared of the masked magician - if she would be so kind as to show him the way to the next train station. Used to obey she agreed, but she didn't like it.

And she would never return to her former employer who thought she had died. She had not. Erik had told her that her employer wanted to get rid of her and would have send her to prison for blackmail so she should run and save herself now - and he would help her. The maid did not trust him, but when she learned what her employer had said about her she was furious.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned - that might be true. It took weeks but Erik managed to contact Jonathan de Mer who was living under a fake name and a disguise in another state now - and Jonathan immediately was highly interested in talking to that maid. Not that she would make a good witness to convince any jury, but she might know where the dirty secrets were hidden.

* * *

Soon after Erik had helped the black maid to leave New York he learned that Riccy and his helpers wanted his help again. Of course they could not know that the special prosecutor was still alive and Erik was giving him information, they thought they would be able to control Erik now that they had two murder cases against him. If he would betray them, they would accuse him of two murders and he would hang for that. It was highly unlikely that he would risk that. Only that the two murder victims were alive and well...

Erik found himself still as the underdog. No one would officially meet him, no one would invite him to any official meeting or party or even dinner. He would be summoned like a servant, told what to do - mostly it was something about making someone or something disappear - and then left to obey. He never complained, never showed his hatred, never let on that he wasn't eager to please. Riccy was quite sure that Erik was finally so scared something might happen to his family that he could perfectly control him. Erik surely was scared of what Riccy might do if he ever found out what he was up to, but that did not stop him from giving Jonathan de Mer every shard of information he could get. Whatever that was.

Erik soon came up with an idea to make important politicians miss the date of a certain referendum in the New York State Legislature. Of course he could not make enough members of either the State Assembly or State Senate miss the referendum, but he could make one man being too sick to leave his home and sometimes this was enough to have a speech not being made or uncomfortable questions not being asked and it certainly assured a little influence. Not enough to control the state of New York, certainly not, but it could make a difference if the others knew how to use their chances.

In fact, it was too easy. Since Erik was always banned to be with the servants and never allowed to attend any official meeting or party - if he was allowed to be there at all - he had much time to talk to servants. The female servants found him charming because he treated everyone of them with great respect as if she was a queen. They attributed this to him being a Frenchman and since they knew him only as "masked magician" they were not sure if the half-mask was just part of his fancy costume so he could walk the streets incognito. Some suspected him to hide some scar or deformity but they didn't know for sure. They just knew that there was a man who would belong to the high society from his behaviour and wealth - they didn't know that he still struggled to pay the installments for the credits he had needed to build up the amusement park - who treated them as equals.

And Erik soon learned that servants knew much more than everyone assumed and they just loved to chat. Many were treated badly by their employers and so they eagerly shared every rumor they knew to everyone who would listen. Of course there were loyal servants too but this depended strongly on their master's behavior towards them and unfortunately - or from Erik's point of view luckily - most masters tended to treat their employees worse than their horses or dogs.

Erik used a very easy and safe "poison" to let someone fall ill: water. Normal drinking water as it came from the faucets in the areas where the poor lived. The water was usually contaminated with bacteria and caused different illnesses like typhus, cholera, dysentery. It was easy to get and to transport and he just needed a tiny drop in the glass of the right man and that man would certainly fall ill soon. And no one could ever accuse him of smuggling posion when he had a bottle of water with him...

Applying that drop of water wasn't too hard - far too many politicians used to celebrate secretly with their mistresses or with whores in the luxury brothels on Coney Island, some of them even in the dark area of Erik's own amusement park. He had plenty of opportunities to give them the tiny drop of water or he could always have the whores help him. They liked him and strongly disliked politicians who declared whores to be vermin which had to be eradicated at day and came to their beds at night.

Erik came to rely on lowly servants and whores soon. Riccy had never considered using them, thinking them to be too stupid to do anything that required more intellect than any mule had, but Erik knew better. Among the servants were men and women who were very clever but due to their race or poverty never had any chance to finish school or get the job they deserved. Erik was always willing to treat them as equals and thus won many eager helpers to his cause, even if he had to leave them in the dark about his real purposes for their own good.

* * *

Autumn came too soon for Erik. He was so busy he even forgot his daughter's first birthday. Everyone else seemed to have known and so Erik was utterly surprised when Suzie told him about the idea they had for the party: As Meg was the lead dancer in "the Lost Kitten" Annie should watch the show from the audience sitting at her grandmother's lap. After the show Meg would announce that it was her daughter's first birthday and they should come to the stage. But of course Erik should be there too as the father.

"Birthday? Is there any reason to celebrate this with strangers?" Erik asked astonished.

"Meg thinks this would be a good idea," Suzie replied, "And why not? You are officially married, she is officially baptized..."

"She is what? When?" Erik had absolutely forgotten that a child needed to be baptized. It was nothing important to him so it was rather low in his to-do-list, he would care for that when he had time. Obviously he never seemed to have any time, so Meg and Antoinette had taken Little Annie's christening in their own hands. It was a shock for Erik to learn that he had not even been there. "Why has no one informed me?"

Suzie sighed. "Meg told you. Your answer was that you had no time for nagging females and her duty as wife was to take the load off your shoulders, that you had no time for private matters. She did."

Erik shifted uncomfortably. Yes, there had been something - but Meg had told him so many things in the last year he had not really heard or immediately forgotten for there were so many much more important things to do. He had missed his own daughter's christening.

"Well... Not the 'Lost Kitten'. We do it... the magic show? I want to be there too. I am Annie's father."

"The magic show - isn't that too late for Little Annie?" Suzie asked.

"You talk to Meg and arrange that with her. Tell her I do not tolerate any insubordination!"

Suzie knew better than to say anything. Erik was unable to care for anything but himself right now, they would have to obey or risk him losing his temper. Which was no good sign at all. She would have to inform Dr. Gängelmann that Erik was already on the verge of making serious mistakes, in fact, he had already made some so they should protect him from himself now.

* * *

Annie's birthday was a great success. Annie was unusually quiet sitting with her grandmother in the audience as if they were just another entertainment seeking family. She watched with large eyes as her mother danced and her father conjured Irene out of his a bit oversized top-hat. Why should he do the trick with a white rabbit when he could do it with a human being who was by far more cooperative than any animal?

Little Annie listened in awe as he played the piano for the dancers and laughed as Tilly Three Legs struggled to dance a polka with them - polka has a two-four-time. It was just for fun and Tilly's mistakes well rehearsed.

Little Annie even clapped her tiny hands like the rest of the audience. Especially Erik's new magic trick astonished her. It was rather simple - a large box in the middle of the stage, but it was standing on some sort of table so everyone saw it had no trapdoor to reach it from below the stage. Erik would ask Meg to climb inside, then open and close the door various times, always finding someone else inside and everyone would greet him with "hello darling". He usually reacted as if he was surprised or shocked until he finally had Meg back. The other women were: Irene, Fat Suzie, Attamamma and the He-She. Erik acted as if he was shocked at finding his wife transformed like that, much to the audience's amusement.

Annie laughed and clapped her hands. She would have loved to see more, but her birthday announcement was due, which she certainly did not like that much. She did not understand why she was given to her father and what he said. She was too small to understand that Erik used this to present himself as proud and loving father to the audience in his little speech telling everyone that as a father he would create an amusement park that would fulfill every child's dream. It was a clever idea to win the audience's hearts. He liked to present himself as the good guy, the loving father, it was an image he wanted to create. In that the park resembled his personality: A nice colorful exciting area and a hidden dark area, but only his family and close friends knew.

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 _to be continued..._

 _Thank you for reading and please review!_


	37. Servant of Too Many Masters (cont2)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Servant of Too Many Masters (cont.)**

* * *

It was close to end of the season as Meg found Erik in the "Princess Hall". She loved the Princess Hall and imagined Little Annie would be very happy wearing one of the cheap princess costumes, creating her own jewelry from cut glass and sipping tea and having cookies like a real princess would or even playing with the ponies. Erik had bought some old tiny Shetland ponies from the pony carousel. The ponies were too old and lame for the carousel so they were cheap, but they were able to be petted and fed by little girls in princess costumes.

Erik only had to buy more ponies for with only two of them being fed treats by girls in princess costumes all day long would make them too fat and this would shorten their lifespan. But he was highly amused at the customer's stupidity. People paid the entrance fee for the girls, bought the princess costume at an exorbitant price for the cheap fabric and poor sewing, bought the cut glass for the self-designed jewelry, paid for the drinks and snacks, paid for the governesses who entertained the girls, teaching them to use makeup, helping them with the jewelry and they bought treats for the ponies. Actually they paid to feed the ponies without thinking. Erik loved to see that he wouldn't have to buy any food for the ponies at all during the season and the little creatures would become round and fat anyways, their coat brushed by so many little hands that they were shining. All girls loved the little ponies.

Meg was sure Annie would love them too once she was old enough to play at the Princess Hall. Now she saw Erik talking with five girls.

"What are their names?" a girl asked and pointed to the two ponies.

"The white one is Colombina and the brown one is Bauta," Erik replied with a friendly smile, "Unfortunately I only lend them from the owner and he wants to sell them to the knacker because they are old..."

"Noooo!" The girls were shocked.

"I wish I could buy them. Colombina and Bauta would love to live in the Princess Hall for the rest of their lives," Erik said and Meg knew immediately he had come up with a new scheme for making money.

"I'll ask Daddy," the oldest girl said, "He's rich. If he gives you the money, will you keep Colombina and Bauta?"

"It would be my pleasure, Princess Theodora," Erik replied with a deep bow. Every girl was called a 'princess' in the hall and Erik of course played along when he was acting as the court magician there.

Meg shook her head. O Erik, you incorrigible scoundrel! The ponies were already his and surely he would pull that trick more than once a day. With the money he got to "save" the poor little ponies from "certain death" he could buy himself a stable full of horses. Or he would pay back the pressing debts. Yes, this must be his scheme. He would try to get out of his debts. Of course he was swindling again, but this time he took the money from rich men to whom a few hundred dollars more or less wouldn't make any difference.

And something else came to Meg's mind: Erik counted on the little girls being able to persuade their fathers to do almost everything. What did this say about him? She smiled as she approached the group.

"Hello. Princess Annie wants to see you," she said, holding Annie on her arms. The girl was gaining weight each day, soon she would no longer be able to carry her.

Erik smiled. "Ah, daddy's little princess!" he exclaimed and held his arms out. He wanted to hold Annie. Then he turned to the five girls around him. "Meet Princess Theodora who saved your furry friends."

Meg bit her tongue to prevent herself from berating him for teaching his daughter lies. Hopefully the girl was too small to notice. Annie looked at him bewildered. She didn't know the ponies yet, so Erik took her and placed her on Colombina's back, much to the other girl's joy. Annie laughed and exclaimed happily: "Horse! Horse! Horse!"

* * *

At the end of season Erik had a nasty quarrel with the tenant of the illegal casino and the opium den. Erik had decided that he could run them alone now and would cancel the rental contracts, he offered the tenants to stay as employees which they did not want. When they refused to leave and thought they had a right to do so due to some wording in the contract Erik hadn't even read before signing it he threatened to do it "the legal way". He was an honest businessman and couldn't have an opium den and illegal gambling so close to his amusement park for families. Absolutely impossible. And any judge and jury would agree with him, possibly sentence the tenants to some punishment for their illegal activities.

It was an empty threat, but it worked. They were no dangerous criminals and would be able to put up their business in some other building in Coney Island outside Erik's park - which was still not named. Most people just called it "Mr. Y's".

Erik offered all employees of the two enterprises that they could stay and work for him, which they accepted greatfully, unemployment was high and a new job not easily found. And all of them had families to care for. Erik wanted more automatic games for the casino. There were far too many "cafes" offering an opportunity to do illegal gambling in New York, if he wanted to attract wealthy customers he had to offer something the others did not have. His idea was gambling with automatons. His first gambling-automaton should be the test if gamblers were as attracted to machines as everyone else.

The automaton had first been designed for the Hall of Wonders, but it might bring in much more in the casino. It was a large box, as large as a bed, with tiny metal rails on top. In these rails tiny painted horses with sulkies would run. It looked like a miniature trotting course. The mechanic horses could move all four legs like a horse in trod really would, but the mechanics were in the sulkies. They worked with electricity for the rails were electrified. Every rail had one horse, all in it would be eight horses, and every rail had its own electric circuit. Erik had every circuit with its own electric transformer. It was possible to control the speed of the horses by adjusting the different transformers, all this had to be done from below, so there was a secret tunnel beneath the horse race box and Erik took great care to teach one of his employees - it was a rather small Chinese girl who would fit in there easily - how to operate the racing course.

The first try was a real success. People were fascinated by the mechanic horse racing course and they even accepted Erik's explanation that the large box contained sophisticated mechanics to make the horses trod at different speed so one would be faster than the other and no one would be able to control that mechanism. The chance to win was 1:8 for there were 8 horses. He was astonished that no one ever questioned this. He was well known as the Mysterious Masked Magician. What part of "magician" had they not understood? Of course there would be one to accept the bets, then the course would be set in motion and of course he could control which horse would win - of course the one with the least bets on it, sometimes the second or third least bets, just to make sure no one suspected it would be always the same.

It was great fun to listen to the discussions of the gamblers. They came up with the most interesting ideas how the trod course was working and which horse would win the next trod race. Since the horses could be taken away and placed on other rails they did not think the mechanics to be inside of the large box. Of course mechanics were in the sulkies, but when the horses moved their legs, most people thought it was in the horses. They came up with strange math formulas thinking they had finally figured out the mechanism. And they would place another bet to test their theory.

And Erik laughed at their stupidity and his success.

* * *

Finally the long awaited day came and they could move out of the dormitories and into real flats. There was no luxury, with the public toilets in the ground floor and the communal water tap ground floor too so everyone had to carry up the buckets of water to their flat, but they had a room for each person. Of course there were many discussions as to who would have to share the flat with whom, but in the end everyone was eager to get some privacy.

Every flat had a large livingroom, a tiny kitchen where a copper bathtub could be put up, and four small bedrooms. There was no furniture yet, they had to move in with the beds they had had in the variety, no tables, no cupboards, nothing, but it was - heaven. Even without electricity or even gas they were happy. They would have some privacy at last.

There was a fight between Meg and Erik when Meg learned that he had two rooms for himself: one in the flat he would share with her and her mother and of course Little Annie and a second room in the flat with Dr. Gängelmann, Squelch and Fleck.

"We are your family, not them!" Meg yelled.

"Stop shouting! It is just for the nights I have to work longer and come home late so I won't wake Little Annie!"

"No, it is for the time when you feel the need to pretend to be bachelor again, isn't it?" Meg retorted furiously.

"Jealous? Come on, did I give you any reason..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"You think I'm blind? What is going on between Suzie and you?"

"Suzie?" Now Antoinette Giry felt obliged to help her daughter.

"Shut up, both of you!" Erik roared, "I do as I please and no one will ever stand in my way, certainly not two female scarecrows such as you!"

"Scarecrows?"

"Can you please stop yelling?" Vincent asked, "You are in the fourth floor and we can hear you in the ground floor of the neighbor building!"

Everyone was prepared for many interesting fights in that family. Somehow they would have their own comedy show regularly - Erik and Meg against Antoinette, Antoinette and Meg against Erik, Erik and Antoinette against Meg and as soon as Little Annie would be able to speak better she would become an interesting player in the shouting games.

* * *

That year's Christmas was much happier than the last. Erik was now able to pay the installments and was positive that he could make it now with his amusement park. He had enough attractions already running he could for the first time in years just sit back and enjoy the Christmas party. It was of course in the canteen. Despite having their own flats and kitchens now the freaks and the musicians still gathered in the variety for it was much warmer there and easier to heat up - and of course there they would get two meals a day.

And on December the 25th they would get a real feast - at least as much as Erik could afford to give them. They would celebrate their new freedom living in real flats, an important step on becoming respectable people.

"Maybe I can afford having electricity installed in the blocks of flats and running water in each flat - maybe even indoor plumbing!" Erik told Vincent who was delighted at the thought of having electric light so he could paint whenever he wanted to and would have much light night and day.

"That would be wonderful!" the He-She exclaimed, "Running water, hot and cold, and a bathroom each floor. That would be luxury!"

"A bathroom each floor? No! Each flat!" Erik was dreaming up a bright future again.

"You would... invest that much money?" the He-She asked astonished.

Erik nodded happily, "As soon as I can. Paying back the credits works well now, it is possible, in two or thee years I will be rid of them and then I can make money and as soon as possible invest in some luxury for us. O yes. And I want a car." He didn't mention the loan from the Vicomte, obviously he never intended to pay that back.

Meg's head shot up. "A car? I thought you preferred horses?"

"Actually... a car of my own making. Electric, of course. Just for driving around in the park," Erik explained, "And I found a way around the law prohibiting gambling. A ship. A ship with a build-in casino. As soon as the ship is away from the coast the casino opens, people can gamble all they like, then the ship turns round and brings people back home like any other cruise for pleasure. I could do the same with... other things."

"Maybe a cruise ship which is in truth a hospital?" Dr. Gängelmann suggested, "Where upper class people could get treatment for shameful diseases, for addiction and maybe even abortion?"

"Sounds great to me!" Erik was on fire for that idea, but there was an uncomfortable silence. Most people considered abortion to be murder - even if most knew about horrible tragedies that happened to young girls who expected an illegal child and didn't know what to do. Backstreet abortionist or trying do to it themselves - they caused terrible injuries and far too often died and no one knew if it was suicide or just an attempted abortion going wrong. Erik had no moral qualms about abortion, even if having a child now had changed his view greatly. He himself knew what it was like to be an unwanted child and so thought it was better for the child to be killed before it was even born than to be an unwanted child, most likely ending up on the streets. "O come on - I'm just thinking!" Erik said as he noticed how weird it was to talk about abortion at Christmas, "This is the beginning not only of a new year but also of a new life for all of us! We won't be just lowly creatures for people's amusement - we are going to be respectable people!"

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 _Thank you for reading and please review! Like all writers I thrive on reviews! ;-)_


	38. Degradation

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Degradation**

Erik's view on the shows was changed greatly by the way Little Annie reacted to him sitting at the piano in the orchestra pit - he had no other piano - and composing the music for the shows. Little Annie loved the music. She would dance around on the stage, what she called dancing with her not even one and a half years, and laugh. She so much loved to create new shows with her daddy, she was very self-conscious about that. She was important and knew she had to help him composing.

Erik loved her. How could he not? When he said: "Let's go composing!" she forgot everything she was playing that moment and ran to him, knowing her daddy needed her help and she was doing a very important job composing with him. He had to fight hard not to cry each time she did that. She was such a darling, his child, such a wonderful child!

And she spoke now. Several languages. English, French, Italian, German. This was to be expected and Erik understood every of these languages so he was proud that she learned so many languages in her age. Of course she made mistakes and far too often mixed the languages and confused different grammar - but then, she was not even two years old! But she spoke a weird language no one understood too - Gaelic. Erik silently cursed whoever the Irishman was who taught his daughter Gaelic for now he had to learn that blasted language to be able to understand what she was saying. If he only knew who the Irishman was? As far as he knew there was no Irishman in the variety.

With Erik's mood the entire variety changed. He no longer despised the shows he was creating for he knew Little Annie loved them. She was too young to understand real music now, but she could understand the easy little miniature operettas he created for the variety - and she loved them! She loved the costumes, the magic, the dancing, the designs, just everything. He no longer felt humiliated having to waste his talent writing popular tunes for now he considered writing miniature operas for children as valuable as any other music. It was for his daughter, his darling little child.

Erik had Little Annie with him all the time now. Winter was the time when he could do that, when she was in her tiny wooden cage "helping" him with the new props for magic shows, the new automatons for the Hall of Wonders or the casino, when they went to the workshops for the costumes or the stage design together to inspect the work, when they went to oversee the rehearsals for the new shows - he always had his child with him and Little Annie was proud to be her father's assistant.

Meg felt neglected. Erik and Annie had only eyes for each other and suddenly she, the mother, had no place in their happy little world they created. As weird as it was sometimes for Erik had his own ideas how to deal with his daughter's fears. Like every child Annie was afraid of the darkness, but instead of lightening a lamp for her Erik told her that the darkness was her friend. Sheep and cattle were afraid of the darkness because the wolves lurked and stalked their prey, but for the wolves darkness was their friend. He even taught Annie to howl like a wolf, waking up the entire block of flats far too often, until she was no longer afraid of the darkness.

When Annie was afraid of monsters, Erik gave her his pundjap-lasso and told her that her daddy would kill all monsters with it. Meg nearly fainted when she noticed that Erik playfully taught his baby to play with the lasso and Annie again and again asked him "Daddy kill!" and laughed at that. This was nothing he ought to make jokes about, but Erik was so happy with Annie, he didn't even consider this.

Annie's favorite game became "shark swallow". She would run up to the wooden megalodon's mouth, climb inside, run through it and come out at the back end calling "Poopoo!" Meg suspected Erik of having taught her that word. In winter she had the wooden shark all for herself, which wouldn't be possible in summer.

Erik even took her on a ride in the tunnel of horrors and Annie was in no way terrified but excited. As they left the fun-ride and met an extremely nervous Meg Annie told her proudly: "My daddy killed all the monsters in there!"

"Erik! You are spoiling her completely!" Meg scolded him, "This is no way to treat a baby girl!"

"O leave us be! When do I have time for her except in winter? Spring will come soon enough and then you and your mother can go on 'educating' her with me out of your way."

* * *

One day before the amusement park would open for the next season, Erik decided he would go to the meeting of the businessmen of Coney Island. They knew each other and met regularly, he was never invited, but being the owner of one of the larger amusement parks Erik thought he should demand his right to be with them. The meeting was of course not on Coney Island but in the house of one of the owners of a larger amusement park who had many other investments too and lived in a nice house in the better area of New York.

As he had expected, they were not happy to have the freak at their door. There were the owners of the theme parks as well as the owners of the small independent shops and fun rides, but even the owners of the small independent kiosks looked down on him and did not want him there. "As the owner of one of the largest parks I guess my invitation got lost. The mail is not so reliable here, you know," Erik tried to hide his anger and embarrassment with an obvious lie.

"You were not invited," one of the richest men replied coldly, "This is for businessmen, not for freaks. Go back to your circus."

"Ah, I thought so. Well, then I am precisely where I ought to be today, don't you think, gentlemen?" He stood there, pretending to play absolutely bored with his walking cane, seemingly unknowing revealing that the walking cane was in fact the sheath for a short and sharp blade, a cutlass. It was a serious threat - he would challenge everyone who denied him entrance to a duel of sorts - or do something to them on their way home. They did not want to risk that, there already were enough rumors among the fairground men that the masked magician was in league with the devil himself - or with the Boss - or that he was just a madman capable of everything.

They let him know that they did not want him there. He wasn't offered a seat, no one offered drinks or refreshments to him - the servant must have gotten explicit order not to give him anything - and they ignored him. No one would talk to him or dignify anything he said with a reaction. He was uninvited and unwanted and even if they would not remove him through physical force or call the police they made sure he got the message that they did not want him there. He was not one of them. They even talked about the rumors that 'a certain masked freak' would surely fail to pay the debts, even if he had an unknown investor form Europe.

Erik got the message. Not even those who were considered doing disreputable business by the upper class but businessmen nevertheless wanted him in their circle. They looked down on him. He was just a circus freak, an exotic exhibition, an animal in a zoo. Not even human. No one considered him having feelings, being a man of honor - questionable as it was. But then none of the other man was one of the "big players" in the city and no one was considered an honorable man by the upper class. He hated it, but he did not know what to do. He could not just kill them all or begin playing cruel tricks on them - they all paid the protection money and he could not do anything to them for he did not dare to defy Bruno Riccy now. But he needed to get into these meetings, he just needed to know what they talked about - and if they really were trying to fight him.

They wouldn't dare, they knew Bruno Riccy wanted all of Coney Island to run smoothly, and to do that, he now needed Erik as his watch dog. Erik's chain was rather long and he could decide many things alone, but that was what he was. A very well trained, enormously clever, watch dog. But never a man, only a dog. Even if a dog is so clever and well-trained his owner can't even think of living without him, he is still a dog.

Erik sighed and left silently. He couldn't endure the humiliation any longer. He had to go before he would either cry like he had as a small boy when he was shunned by his parents or lose control and kill all of them. He had weapons on his person. His cutlass, his lasso. They were certainly enough to kill everyone who couldn't escape soon enough. But he could not to that, he had to consider the consequences such a terrible massacre would have for his child. Better leave silently.

He did not go to the next train station. He needed a walk to clear his head - and right now he had such terrible urge to run, he couldn't quite understand, but he was in a nice area and could go for a walk.

It helped. By the time he reached the train station he had come up with a plan to participate by proxy. He would have Sam Singer - if he could persuade the man to help him for a price he could afford to pay - go there and declare that in truth he, Singer, was the owner of the park and Erik just his stooge. It was a risk, but Singer could eventually play that part. The only trouble was, Erik didn't know if he could trust Singer. Singer was not his friend, even if he declared that he was really happy he didn't have any responsibility or risks now and lived a very comfortable life with a good income so he wasn't angry with Erik for forcing him to sell the variety.

Erik sighed as he entered the train station. He would have to discuss this with his friends who knew Sam Singer better than he did. Could that fat rat of a man be trusted or not?

* * *

The masked man didn't get much time to think for as soon as he was back to Coney Island for there was - late as it was - a commotion at the Nature Hall. Erik made his way there and demanded to know what caused the quarrel.

His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the man who had sold him the stuffed sharks. Taking a deep breath he approached the man. "Sir, why are you causing trouble here?" he asked, pretending not to recognize the other man.

"This is my travelling exhibition! Where did you get it?"

"Sir, please, calm down. You sold me the exhibition - where is the problem?" Erik replied calmly, wondering if anyone saw his emotional turmoil behind his calm facade. He felt bad about this, knowing he did not have the nerve now to go through with the original plan - kill that man and make a mummy of his body for the tunnel of horrors. He could not do that, certainly not, he would have to find another way.

"I sold...? When?"

Erik stared at him. "I can show you the contract and the receipt. You signed a receipt that I paid. Can't you remember?"

"I remember nothing of that sort. All I know is that I woke on the streets and couldn't remember what had happened in the last two months. Someone... must have struck me down. I'm sorry..."

Erik cringed at the old man's explanation. He must have struck him down much harder than intended. "No need to apologize. Come to my office and we discuss it in private."

* * *

Erik took his place behind his desk and offered the other man a cup of tea and a seat. He prepared the tea himself on his little stove, he didn't want to trouble anyone for he knew it was dinner time. Everyone still gathered in the canteen for the two meals and Erik highly appreciated this for he felt that this would bring his most important employees closer together, would make them a real team, the musicians and the freaks. He would have to find another name for them, "freak" was too demeaning.

He studied the old man who sat there before him, sipping tea. The old man wore normal clothing like many working class people did, but he looked extremely weary. Erik took the folder and showed him the contract. "This is your signature, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes..." The old man seemed to shrink in his chair. He looked like he was about to cry. "I'm an old man, you see. I... thought that the money I would get for the exhibition would be enough to retire and spend my old days in peace with my wife. But... I do not know what happened. The police told me I might have been robbed but I couldn't remember anything. I still can't. Two months of my life - every memory is gone."

Erik swallowed hard. He should never have allowed that man to talk to him for now he was confronted with his guilt. "Maybe... I could help you?" he offered, "I cannot pay twice, of course..."

"I would never ask that of you," the old man replied, "I can see from my signature that you already paid. I didn't mean to cause trouble, I just... didn't remember anything and didn't even know I sold my exotic exhibition."

"So our encounter is purely coincidence?" Erik asked, leaning back. That man didn't remember anything, he could easily pretend to be innocent but he felt guilty. He had bereft that man of his only chance at a dignified way to live now that he was growing old.

"I was looking for a job," the old man replied, "I have been a travelling showman all my life but am too old now - I thought maybe in one of the growing amusement parks here I find a job I can do despite my failing strength."

"Of course," Erik replied, "You know the stuffed sharks and the megalodon better than anyone else - did you see the wooden model I made? You could just sit there and lecture about your sharks all day long. I cannot pay much, but it should be enough for you to have a roof over your head and won't starve."

"You are most kind." The old man was really grateful, not knowing he was talking to the robber who had brutally struck him down and destroyed his only chance to spend his remaining years in comfortable environment.

Erik felt terrible. He knew he was certainly not kind, but he could not confess his crime - that man could report him to the police and his position was terribly vulnerable already, he couldn't risk that. "It's the least I can do."

The old man shook his head. "No, sir, you are giving me a chance for me and my wife where everyone else send me away telling me I'm too old. Do not belittle your generosity."

"It's nothing. Really. Stop thanking me!"

Erik noticed too late that his sudden outburst frightened and confused the old man. "I'm sorry," he said, lowering his head, staring at his pencil as if this was an anchor to keep his mind focused and functioning, "It has been a long day. You start working tomorrow, right?" Erik got up and took some money from his safe. "Here - 20 dollars advance." He held out the money and the other man stared at him. 20 dollars was quite much, as much as an average working class man earned in two weeks. Many men earned less, about 30 dollars or even less a months.

"I cannot..." the old man refused.

"Take it, that is an order!" Erik snapped annoyed. The more the other man was thanking him, the pain in his chest increased. He didn't want to analyse his guilt, right now all he could do was trying to lessen the effect of his crime. Giving the old man a job was not too much - he would need someone as cashier at the entrance of the Hall anyways. It would not be a problem to send the woman who did that job now away or find something else for her to do - she was young and strong, she could be used for some harder work. But now he had the old man working for his money - money he, Erik, had brutally robbed. Erik sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you... just... take the money, go to your wife and have a nice evening. Tomorrow you can start working. Would you prefer the morning shift or the late shift?"

"Morning shift, but..."

"Alright. 10 o'clock then. And now go before I reconsider!" Only when the old man left Erik noticed that he had completely forgotten to let him sign a contract and discuss the salary.

He went to the canteen to find it almost empty. Only Fat Suzie and Benny were still there, Suzie helping Benny to eat and of course she had to eat much more to stay as fat as she was.

"Good night!" Benny greeted cheerfully, "Suzie and I had a wonderful idea for a new show. Your disappearance - reappearance tricks are great, but with the slim and flexible Meg the audience might eventually suspect the truth, but could you do a disappearance trick with Suzie?"

"Benny, please. I'm not in the mood for discussing anything. Is there any wine left?"

Suzie pointed to one of the tables where the used sets stood, from the audience and from the employees. Of course there were some wine bottles with some rest of wine. Erik just grabbed one and emptied it.

"Whoa, easy, big guy," Benny warned him, "If you come home drunk, Meg is going to make you sleep in the corridor."

"If I'm too drunk to open my own door, I deserve nothing better," Erik replied and sat down at the same table with them, taking off his mask and wig.

Suzie glanced at his face worriedly. "When was the last time you took time to relax?" He didn't even bother to answer. Suzie got up to stand behind him and began massaging his shoulders. "God, you are tensed up I cannot decide if this is muscle or bone. Meg really ought to care for you better. You have blisters again, your skin needs treatment, you need a massage and some help relaxing. Your wife..."

"Don't remind me of her," Erik groaned, not wanting to discuss his problems in the family now.

"She's your wife. It is her job to keep you happy, to take as much burden off your shoulders as she can."

"Tell her and she's going to kill you," Erik sighed.

"I guess she's neglecting other duties too?" Benny asked with a malicious grin.

Erik leaned back against Suzie, who was still massaging his shoulders, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to talk right now and he didn't want to go home to face Meg and her mother who would surely not allow him to relax but were eager to tell him about their problems with the dancing or with Little Annie or whatever absolutely irrelevant worries they had - and if they were complaining again about having to carry the water in a bucket to the fourth floor or having to go down to ground floor to the toilets. Instead of being thankful that they had their own room now, privacy, their own flat, they only complained about having extra work cleaning the flat, carrying the water upstairs or having to empty the chamber pots. Of course everyone had a chamber pot and Little Annie was so proud to be able to use hers just like her daddy, even if she couldn't go without nappies now, she was just one year old. "I do not even want to go home and discuss chamber pots and unwashed socks," he mumbled.

"You don't have to," Suzie whispered in his ear.

Erik's eyes snapped open and he got up and retreated a few steps from her. "Suzie... No. I'm a married man now."

"You do not seem to benefit much from that marriage."

"Suzie, stop it. I told you before that I married her because she is the mother of my child. I cannot deny that I regret many things - but never being Little Annie's father. If only... babies would come without mothers and grandmothers!"

Benny laughed. "That was a good one. Tell that in your next show and all men there will roll on the floor laughing!"

"You wouldn't want the pains of giving birth," Suzie snapped, "If men had to give birth humanity would have gone extinct long ago."

Erik grabbed another bottle of wine. "Let's drink to mothers and babies and dirty nappies," he grumbled.

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 _It seems, Erik is getting himself into trouble again..._

 _Next chapter will be up on Monday! I hope you have a nice weekend. Please review!_


	39. Hangover

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Hangover**

Erik woke the next morning in a room he didn't remember. It was not his own flat, he was sure of that. His own room was in the fourth floor because he loved to look out of his window and see the ocean behind the theme park. Of course the buildings to house his most important employees were not close to the beach but on the other side of the park where the parcels were much cheaper. But the light told him that he was ground floor. Wait, ground floor? But he was in a bed? The last thing he could remember was drinking with Suzie and Benny.

"Good morning," Suzie greeted him.

Erik bolted upright and noticed to his horror that he was not dressed. He pulled the blanket up to cover himself. "Suzie? What happened last night?" he asked.

She laughed as she sat there on the special chair before her vanity. Suzie had two rooms because with her weight she needed a special bed and a special chair. They had just taken out one of the walls and made one room from two. Since Suzie and Benny shared the flat ground floor and there were no other flats on that floor it didn't matter. Suzie strongly disliked stairs. "You got what you needed, cutie," she replied happily.

"God no... please tell me this is not true!"

Suzie shrugged. "It is her fault. If she was fulfilling her wifely duties correctly you wouldn't have to turn to me for comfort."

Erik got dressed in a hurry, then left the flat to go to the toilet - and nearly bumped into his mother in law. A public toilet for everyone on this block of flats was certainly a problem!

He stood there, frozen in shock as he realized that he was certainly not properly dressed - his shirt unbuttoned, the vest and jacket in his hand, cravat missing, mask and wig in his other hand and he was barefooted. There was no denying his guilt now.

They stared at each other in shock.

Antoinette Giry was the first to recover. She backhanded him with much more force than a woman her age usually possessed. He dropped whatever was in his hands in shock hand raised them to protect himself, unfortunately his instincts were awake, his capacity for logical thinking and good behavior not. He just hit her back, she fell to the floor with a cry.

"No... Antoinette, are you hurt?" he bent down, shocked that he had hit her so hard.

Her answer was a verbal torrent of abuse and curse in an odd mixture from English and French that made Erik turn bright red. She must be really angry to use that language - maybe she didn't even know the words were that rude. But then, what French words she used weren't better...

"Antoinette, please, calm down! You know, everyone can hear... No... No... Antoinette, please, Meg mustn't know..." he pleaded with her, feeling helpless. Too late. The tumult had already alerted the other people living in that house who now came downstairs to see what was happening.

And yes, Meg came down in a hurry, worried about her mother.

Erik stared at her and she at him. Behind Erik was Fat Suzie, dressed in nightshirt and dressing gown, but nothing else. His shirt was open, vest and jacket lying on the floor as well as mask and wig, cravat, his shoes and socks were missing, he couldn't recall where he left them but he could guess he would find them beneath Suzie's bed.

"What are you doing here?" Meg demanded.

"Trying to get sober," Erik replied and massaged his temples as the shock wore off and hangover set in. Soon he would be a trembling wreck and it might get messy if he didn't get a chance to get rid of the wine in his body one way or the other or maybe both ways.

Meg realized what must have happened. It wasn't too hard - there was Erik, coming from the flat Suzie shared with Benny, he wasn't properly dressed and had obviously spend the night drinking with Suzie. Meg knew that Erik had had an affair with Suzie in the past before their wedding, he had confessed to that, and she could easily guess that the two of them had spend the night drinking together - so it was not difficult to put two and two together.

"You disgusting, lying, cheating freak!" Meg yelled and kicked him. She knew perfectly well where to hurt him most and it seemed a fitting punishment for his betrayal. She watched with triumphant satisfaction as he sank to his knees, unable to breathe, his unmasked face turning white and then some greenish-grey color. Meg enjoyed the view for a few seconds, then began cursing him in ways that made her mother repeatedly berating her for her language and alternately curse Erik in even worse words.

"If you would do your duty this wouldn't have happened!" Suzie yelled back.

"You stay out of this, fat whore!" Meg accused her.

"Ladies - if you do not let him trough now, this might get messy..." It was Dr. Gängelmann, his voice calm but loud enough that they heard him.

The doctor helped Erik to the toilet just in time before he could no longer control his stomach. "Why did you drink last night?" the doctor asked as Erik finally was done retching. They could hear the argument between Meg and Suzie going on in the corridor.

"Spare me the lecture," Erik groaned, "I'm going to pay dearly for this. And I do not mean the hangover and that I dread having to urinate now."

"She has a hell of a kick," Dr. Gängelmann sighed sympathetically, "Let me see if you need help."

"If you watch me, I cannot..."

"Believe me, you can."

It wasn't an easy day for Erik. First he spend hours locked in one of the bathroom stalls, trying to overcome his hangover, his ordeal heightened by the fact that he had to listen not only to Meg and Suzie yelling at each other in the corridor but others joining the fight in a heated discussion if he had a right to betray his wife if she neglected her duties towards him. It was Madame Giry who finally ordered everyone to shut up and keep silent about this shameful incident, but Erik knew it already was too late. By that time all of his employees and maybe even his business rivals would know. This was surely coming back to bite him in the future.

* * *

He didn't have to wait long. As soon as he felt he could leave the toilet and might make it upstairs to his room - certainly not in the flat he shared with his family but in the other one he shared with his best friends - he bumped into Meg. There was no one except her and suddenly he felt he strongly disliked being alone with her now.

She somehow looked down on him despite their difference in height. "You, sir, mistook your shoes for a chamber pot last night," she said coldly, "I assume you were so drunk you mistook Suzie for a mattress, did you?"

Erik frowned. What? He had done what? That would explain why he had not been able to find his shoes that morning. Suzie must have had a bad night cleaning up his mess. He felt slightly guilty, not only towards Meg but towards Suzie as well. It was no way to treat women. "Meg, please, I need to wash and get dressed and go to work."

"Yes, and you will dismiss Suzie!"

"I will not dismiss her!"

"Ah, the manager of the variety needs his whores in his employ, doesn't he? Well, you surely know how to enjoy the benefits of being a manager!" Meg spat the word as if manager was a curse word.

"Meg, I am sorry, but I cannot remember anything - I do not even know if I actually betrayed you. It is not fair accusing me of something I possibly did not even do."

"That is a lame excuse. Tell me, sir, would you treat Christine like that? Would you force her to empty your chamber pot each day, carrying your excrement four stories downstairs each day? Would you betray her with a fat whore like Suzie?"

"No, I would not. But you, Meg Giry, are not Christine!" Erik yelled back, certainly not caring that everyone would hear him.

"Christine herself is not the Christine of your imagination!" Meg yelled back, "You are loving a mirage!"

"Stop yelling!" a high-pitched voice exclaimed. It was Annie, she must somehow have escaped her babysitter and climbed downstairs. Meg and Erik rushed to see if she was alright, they hadn't known their child to be able to climb the staircase at her tender age of a bit more than one and a half years. Annie was unharmed except for some bruises and her stockings and dress were dirty and ripped. Never mind the clothing as long as the child wasn't hurt.

"Annie! How did you get here?" Meg asked, trying to hide just how scared she was that the child had escaped.

"Granny is slow," Annie explained, "No yelling?"

"No, we won't yell," Erik promised, "Annie, dear, please never ever try to escape your granny again, will you? You might have fallen and broken your neck."

"No," Annie replied but her parents didn't know what she tried to say with that.

"Meg, take her upstairs, please."

"No! Daddy! Daddy take Annie upstairs!" Annie protested and used her most effective instrument to get him to do it: she cried. She knew perfectly well how to cry to get her father to do whatever she wanted him to do.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Erik sighed and picked her up, "I'll bring you upstairs. But you have to promise me that you will never ever again try to escape your granny! Promise!"

"Promise!" Annie beamed. Meg rolled her eyes. She knew that the girl had inherited her father's attitude when it came to promises. She would just forget it before they reached the first floor. Meg wondered what she should do now. She really didn't know. Somehow she wondered why she had felt so close to Erik when they had both been in a really difficult situation and why she strongly disliked the man now that their situation was so much better. They had a normal flat, his amusement park was growing, the financial debts under control - thanks to the Vicomte de Chagny - and soon they would be free from debts and could save money, they might even be able to move away from Coney Island as many of the owners of the large parks did. They would be able to send Annie to a good school and enjoy a comfortable life, so why was he such an ass now? Why couldn't he go back to be the man she knew from when he was desperate and poor?

* * *

Erik was unsure what he should do next. He felt that he owed Meg an apology and Suzie too. Getting too drunk to know what he was doing was inexcusable, even if he wasn't sure he really had to add adultery to his long list of sins. Somehow he doubted that he would have to and there was some tiny voice in the back of his head that kept telling him that if Meg would be a better wife this would never have happened. It was her fault for she was not supporting him, on the contrary, instead of being a good wife and helping him she was only adding to his misery.

He chose to ignore that voice. It would be better for all of them if he would not quarrel more, if he would just apologize and be done with it. But how? How could he apologize? He decided it would be better for him to live apart from his family, in the same block of flats, but not in the same flat, to avoid more trouble. He wondered what had given him the idea that it would be best to have another room where he could live if he couldn't endure Meg and her mother any longer.

Days became weeks before Erik finally found a way to beg Meg's forgiveness. Not only because he needed her as the lead dancer in his shows and assistant in his magic shows, but because she was Annie's mother.

He waited for her at the beach in the morning, close to the pier. He knew that she came there with Annie who loved to play in the sand. Erik stayed hidden to make sure Meg wouldn't just turn round and leave as soon as she saw him. She had made a habit of avoiding him, but was professional enough to do her job as dancer, but she refused to discuss anything that wasn't strictly business.

"Meg?" He asked softly as she was in a position that made it impossible to run away, sitting with Annie in the sand.

"Daddy!" Annie exclaimed and run to him, he had to pick her up and hold her.

"Princess, I need to talk to your mother, okay?" he replied gently, kissing her forehead. It was wonderful to have someone he could kiss like everyone else did. His child was so used to him with and without the mask, she didn't even notice he was different than others.

"Don't use Annie as excuse!" Meg glared at him and got to her feet, dusting off her dress.

"Meg, I am sorry. What I did was... terrible. I know that. I know living together with me is trying, that I am demanding and selfish and I cannot change that. You know how much I work each day - it is trying. I know that I am sometimes treating you unfair just because I am frustrated, exhausted and just... scared." Meg stared at him. She had never thought he would admit that it was his fault and he was being unfair to her. Was this the truth or was he just delivering a speech Benny had written for him to convince her? She knew what a perfect actor Erik could be if he wanted to. Before Meg could ask something, Erik went on: "I cannot promise that I will change in the future. I can only promise that I will try my best, if you forgive me and give me a chance to be your husband and Annie's father. I want us to be a happy family, not constantly fighting."

Meg sighed. "I'm not sure I can be your wife any longer. I just... lost the love I felt for you. But we both owe it to Annie to at least try to be a family."

"That's all I ask of you."

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 _Thank you for reading and please review._


	40. Like Father, Like Child

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Like Father, Like Child**

Erik and Meg got along better since they finally agreed that they would try to be friends and concentrate on rising their daughter. They didn't act like a married couple and neither one felt like doing so. Meg didn't want Erik to touch her like a husband would do, she suddenly felt strong disgust at the mere thought now that she knew he had had an affair with Suzie. She strongly suspected him to have other affairs as well, but whatever he did, he was very discreet now, avoiding another scandal. The humiliation of everyone of his employees knowing of his martial quarrel after his binge was enough to make him cautious.

Somehow Erik and Meg felt like business partners and their common business was to raise their child. They both acted like professionals, putting aside all personal feelings and concentrating on Annie's well-being.

Antoinette wasn't happy with this development. She had hoped Erik and Meg would come together again, even as she appreciated that they were not quarreling there was a certain tension between them. Both tried to avoid everyone that might upset the other one, they avoided talking about anything that wasn't strictly business or concerning Annie. Antoinette hoped for more grandchildren, but with Meg and Erik avoiding each other like that there was little hope they would have another child soon.

It was Annie's second birthday. Annie knew that she had birthday and would be allowed to make a wish at breakfast. She had been excited for weeks, talking with everyone of her babysitters about possible wishes. The main wishes concerned her father, which was a good sign. She wanted to spend more time with him and work with him - well, working meant that she was sitting in her wooden cage playing with pieces of wood and fabric that were left from Erik's work at new automatons and props for his magic show. She pretended to build automatons herself.

Annie was far too excited to eat. She was constantly moving, just wanting to name her wish. The family had begun to have breakfast together and not in the canteen, it was the only meal they would share for in the evening Erik usually was too busy so he just helped himself to a plate in the kitchen and went to his office to do something. When he returned to his flat everyone else was asleep.

"Can I say it?" Annie asked for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, "Can I?"

"Okay, name your wish," Erik sighed, not able to endure her bugging any longer. Meg glared at him. They had agreed that they would have breakfast first and she would name her wish then. They would have to talk about him giving in to his daughter far too easily.

"I want to be a boy."

Meg, Antoinette and Erik stared at the girl in her pink dress. She was a lovely girl, looking much like her mother - thank goodness - with her blonde hair. She only had her father's dark eyes and pale skin, making her even more beautiful.

"You are a girl," Antoinette replied sternly, "This cannot be changed."

"I want to be a boy. Please, daddy, make me a boy!"

"Annie, I... I cannot do that. I'm not that powerful a magician," he said, helplessly shrugging. Annie believed he was a real magician and wouldn't believe anyone who told her differently.

"But I want to be a boy!" Annie was crying now.

"Don't you want a pet?" Erik offered, knowing Meg and Antoinette would hate him for this. They thought Annie was too young to have a pet.

"No. Want to be a boy!"

"Don't you want to be daddy's princess?" Erik asked, trying to get her to think of something else.

"No. I'm a boy."

"Annie, you are a girl!" Meg sighed, "You cannot be a boy."

"Can."

"Why would you want to be a boy?" Antoinette asked, trying to figure out what gave the girl the stupid idea she could be a boy.

"Girls are weak and stupid, I'm a boy!" Annie insisted.

"Girls aren't weak and stupid," Meg replied, "Look at Attamamma, she's really stronger than most men and she's a woman. And you wouldn't call me or granny stupid, would you?"

"I'm a boy."

"But being a girl is much better than being a boy," Erik tried another approach, "Look at your mama. She is such a good dancer, isn't she beautiful?"

"I don't need to be beautiful, I'm a boy!" Annie insisted.

"O Annie..." Meg sighed, wondering where this sudden fit came from.

"Being a girl is much better. If you are a girl, you do not have that much responsibility. You can just stay at home and let a man care for your every need," Erik lectured, earning a glare from Meg and her mother but deliberately choosing to ignore them, "As a man you have to work so much, there's no time to play."

"Yes! Want work!" Annie clapped her hands, "Please, daddy, I want to be a boy!"

"If you are a girl, your mother will pamper you," Erik went on, ignoring Meg's remark that if anyone was completely spoiling the child it would be him, "If you were a boy, I would be a demanding taskmaster and every tiny failure would be punished with brute force."

"Yes!" Annie excitedly agreed.

"But you don't want that, do you?" Meg asked, "If you think you need to be a man to be a musician it's wrong. Look a the orchestra, we have many women there."

"No. I am a boy!"

"Erik, do something!" Meg demanded.

"And what can I do?" he snapped helplessly, then turned back to his child: "If you do something wrong you get a mild berating and maybe a tiny slap. If you were a boy it would be the whip." Maybe threatening would get her to give in.

"Yes," Annie agreed, "I won't cry! A boy doesn't cry!"

"Annie, you don't even know what it is like..." Erik tried to reason with her, then had an idea: "Alright. I'll give you one lash with a whip. If you do not cry you can be a boy, but if I see only one tear you are a girl and will behave like a girl. Agreed?"

"Yes!" The child was happily jumping up and down as if this was the greatest gift.

Erik took her to his room. He had a riding whip there, not that he could afford a horse then, but he used it if he helped with the ponies for the Princess Hall. Now he took it and turned round, seeing his two years old daughter standing before him, her face reddened and she was beaming with happiness. It broke his heart to even think of hitting her, she was so very small and so sweet. He cracked the whip and Annie smiled at him. "If I don't cry, I'm a boy. I'm like daddy," his daughter exclaimed happily.

Erik told her to lie down. He had decided he would give her a small taste of the whip, just enough to frighten her so she would be happy to be a girl in the future. But when she was lying there, tiny bundle that she was, he found he couldn't. It brought tears to his eyes and he did not want to hurt her. He loved her so much, wanted her to be happy. "There is something about being a man," he said, nearly choking on his tears, "I have to go through with things. I cannot change my mind like any woman can, no matter how much I want to."

"Okay," was all Annie had to say. She was perfectly relaxed, not knowing it would hurt.

"I'm so sorry, Little Annie," her father whispered, then he struck her. He didn't use much force, but it hurt nevertheless, he could see her tiny body twitch, but she kept silent. When she got up she looked at him, a forced grin on her tiny rosy lips, unshed tears burning in her eyes, he felt like his heard would burst in his chest.

"I'm a boy!" she stated.

Erik picked her up and held her in a tight embrace. "I love you so much, Annie!"

"No girl name! Boy!" Annie protested firmly.

"Antoinette - Antoine. You are Antoine now. Do you like the name? Americans will call you Tony," he whispered.

"Tony, yes!" the child exclaimed happily, "I love you, Daddy, I love you so much! You are the best daddy in the world!"

Erik still held her in his arms but shifted so they could look each other in the eye. "You cannot wear a dress, Tony. Come on, let's buy you proper clothing."

"And a cap! Want a cap!" Annie demanded.

"Yes, you'll get a cap."

When they left the room they passed Meg and Antoinette. Erik turned towards them. "This is my son Tony," he stated, "And if anyone ever calls him a girl, he'll incur my wrath."

"Erik, you cannot let a toddler make such a decision!" Meg exclaimed horrified.

"I can and I will. Come on, Tony, these girls don't understand us."

"But if she wants to be a girl again?"

"She can. I'll get her a set of both papers, one for Anoinette and one for Antoine. Then she... pardon, **he** can be whatever he wants to be."

* * *

They left the flat and Erik headed straight to the next shop for second hand clothing. He didn't have time to have something tailored for his son now, but luckily children usually grew fast and therefore small clothing would be available. Annie - now Tony - chose a brown suit that had been patched up quite often. It was cheap and looked nothing like anything Erik would ever wear if he had a choice, but he would make his baby happy, so he bought it. And a brown cap. They went to his office and he took a pair of scissors and cut her hair so short, she looked like she was nearly bald. Then he helped her changing into her new clothing, the new shoes which were too large, the suit that was too large and the cap. After that he showed the child a mirror.

"I'm a boy!" Tony exclaimed proudly, "Like daddy!"

"Of course you are, my boy!"

* * *

It took some time to convince everyone that Tony was a boy now and would live as a boy and everyone had to treat her like this was true. Erik already had a bad reputation being mad, but now everyone was absolutely convinced he was. They only pitied the poor girl who was forced to behave like a boy now, not knowing that this was exactly what the child wanted.

Tony was so very proud being a boy, he wanted to do some work immediately. Being only two years old his ability was limited, but Erik allowed him to help in the workshop, fetching tools, much to Meg's and Antoinette's annoyance. They were scared something might happen to the child and the toddler had so many bruises and cuts for now that he was a boy he tried to convince everyone about that, he was playing as roughly as possible and of course hurt himself with Erik's tools regularly.

Erik didn't mind. He loved the child and if Tony was a boy now, why not? Erik decided that he had a son who had a minor deformity that was easily concealed. So to him this was no problem at all. The child even gave him an idea for a new attraction: A hall were boys could do whatever their parents usually forbid. Playing in the mud, getting dirty all over, running and fighting, learning fencing and horse-riding and even shooting. Well, the shooting was the one thing Erik wouldn't agree too. But a hall with mud and horses and wooden swords for fencing? Sounded like fun and it would be easy to create. Another old warehouse put to good use without much work. And of course he would be able to sell cheap clothing to the boys parents like he could sell the dresses in the Princess Hall. It wouldn't cost much to make some boys happy playing soldiers or cowboys - and give them a playground where they could get themselves as dirty as they wanted to without being punished by mothers and gouvernesses.

Meg threatened that she would go to the court now and ask for divorce. This was the final straw and she wouldn't tolerate his madness. Annie was a girl and would be raised like one.

"If you ask for divorce, you'll never see Tony again!" Erik threatened, "Legally or otherwise, I will raise him alone. I don't want to, but I can, if I have to."

"You wouldn't dare!" Meg hissed.

"Do you really want to know?" he snapped, "You know the law. If you get a divorce, the child will stay in my care and mine alone. I wouldn't even have to do anything illegal."

Meg ran away crying. She felt trapped now that he could blackmail her as it pleased him. The threat of taking the child away was too much for her, she couldn't do anything now. Antoinette was equally frightened by the thought of never seeing her grandchild again, so she too finally submitted to his wishes. It would be a long cold winter and they would have to get along somehow, but everyone doubted they would have a nice Christmas that year. Everyone but Tony who was so very proud of being a boy he begged his father to get him knife, gun and lasso and teach him how to use it. Tony wanted to be a real man like his father, Erik had a hard time to convince him that he wouldn't need a mask to be like his daddy.

* * *

The first day after the theme park was closed down, Meg was extremely unhappy that Erik had taken over caring for their child and lived together with the child with his friends and not with her and her mother. If she wanted to see the child she had to make an appointment with Irene Fleck, the dwarf woman, who was Annie's - or Tony's - best babysitter.

"Tony is with his father," Irene told her, "They planned this father-son-day for weeks. I guess they are playing with the shark again."

Meg went to the beach. The wooden megalodon was not covered in the thick canvas that would protect it from the winter storms, but it was already cold and they would have to do that soon - or shovel away tons of snow and drying the wood would be a pain again. Meg saw Erik standing next to the wooden mouth which was wide open. Since when had the wooden megalodon a mouth that could be opened like that? Meg hadn't seen that before. She had thought it was open the way it was and not moveable.

Tony ran towards the shark, laughing and making movements with his arms as if he was swimming. "And the big shark swallows the baby!" Erik exclaimed as Tony ran into the mouth, trampled over wooden planks and left the shark at the back.

"Poopoo!" Tony laughed and clapped his tiny hands. Meg smiled as she saw the child. She hated that Erik allowed the girl to be a boy now, but right now the child was so very happy, Meg could only smile. "Once more!" Tony begged, tugging Erik's trousers. Meg noticed that Erik and Tony wore heavy boots and crude suits like working class men would - and both were already filthy and their trousers ripped at their knees as if both had been crawling around on hands and knees for a rather long time.

Erik picked the child up and held him over his head as he ran the twenty meters to the mouth of the wooden shark. "What do we do with the stowaway?" Erik sang.

"Throw him overboard!" Erik and Tony sang together. Meg couldn't help noticing that the child had a much better voice than any other two years old child she ever met. Small wonder, with that father...

Tony again "swam" and Erik repeated his "And the big shark swallows the baby!" as excited as he had before. Meg wondered just how long the two had repeated their game. She could hear Tony's boots trampling the wooden planks inside the shark model and then Tony rushed out at the back and laughed: "Poopoo!" and soon demanded: "Again! Again! Again!"

Erik groaned, but he picked his child up and sang with as much enthusiasm as before: "What do we do with the stowaway?"

"You too!" Tony demanded, "Two stowaway! Two shark poopoo!"

"Okay, okay..." Erik agreed and put Tony down, then they both moved towards the shark's mouth - Tony running and making swimming movements with his arms, Erik on hands and knees behind him.

"Swallow! Swallow!" Tony laughed. Meg heard the two of them crawling through the wooden shark, Erik making noises trying to imitate noises of a busy alimentary canal, then both came out at the back, both laughing and yelling "Poopoo!"

Meg couldn't help laughing. There was Erik, her husband, the man who was struggling to build up a positive reputation, to create a good image of himself - if a false one - the man who had terrorized the Opera Populaire, crawling through a wooden shark, yelling "poopoo" to amuse his daughter, who was right now acting as if she was a boy.

Erik and Tony noticed her presence. While Erik blushed and looked away in embarrassment, Tony exclaimed "Mama!" and rushed to her, his tiny arms widely spread, he wanted to be picked up and held on her arms. Of course Meg picked him up, noticing that he had put on much weight and the tiny arms possessed remarkable strength for such a small child. Could any girl be that strong? Through the coarse fabric of the child's pants she felt that there was no nappy.

"You aren't wearing nappies," she said, looking at Erik accusingly.

"Don't need! Can pee myself! Wanna see?" Tony told her very proud of himself.

"Really? Daddy taught you to use the toilet?" Meg asked. She had not been able to teach the child to get clean - or housetrained as Erik preferred to call it.

"No. Camber pot for poopoo and boys can pee everywhere."

The glare that hit Erik from the blonde woman was like pure fire. What was he teaching the child?

"Um, Tony, we don't discuss these matters with ladies..." Erik berated his son, making a mental note to take better care what he told the toddler until the child was old enough to keep secrets.

"But she's no lady, she's Mama!" Tony's logic was irresistable. Erik could only laugh at the child and even Meg couldn't be really angry. She put the child down.

"Papa, show her!" Tony demanded.

"Here? Now? Tony, we cannot..."

"Can! No one there! Show Mama!"

"Tony, we can't have a pissing contest now!" Erik protested, earning another glare from Meg. This sounded like they already had pissing contests? She would have a word with him later and he wouldn't like it.

"Can! Can! Can!" Tony yelled, stomping his foot.

"No!"

"Can! Or I pee now!" Tony threatened.

"Tony!" Erik's tone became threatening, "You know what happens if you soil your pants: you'll wear the pink dress again."

Tony was silent immediately. Meg couldn't help grinning. Obviously wearing a dress served as a good threat to bring the child in line. And Erik had succeeded to teach the child to control his needs enough to go without nappies.

"But I want to show Mama!" Tony was close to tears now.

Erik sighed. "Okay. But not here - come." They went to hide behind one shack which clearly needed repair. Then he helped the child to open his pants and Meg waited for the child to do like any girl would: to squat down. Tony didn't. Instead Erik controlled something which Meg could not see for the child stood with his back to her. Obviously Erik was helping his son... daughter... child with this. The child could really urinate against the wall like any boy would do.

"Did you see?" Tony asked over his shoulder as his father helped him buttoning his trousers, "Like any other boy!"

"Yes, I saw - but I cannot believe it. Erik, how?"

Erik shrugged. "Like everyone else. Prostheses. This one is tricky and needs much cleaning, but it works." Meg decided she wouldn't even want to know the details. What sick mind invented prostheses to transform a girl into a boy? This was clearly against God's creation, against nature, against everything. But she kept silent, she would not discuss this with him before their child.

"Erik, I want you and Annie... Tony to come back to our flat. We are a family aren't we? I am Tony's mother! Come home, please."

"Yes, Daddy, I want back to Mama! Papa, please! S'il vous plaît ! Bitte! Per favore! Пожалуйста! ma 's e do thoil e!"

"Tony, who the hell is teaching you Gaelic?" Erik sighed, every other language the child had used he knew enough to understand.

Tony giggled and put his hand in his mouth, which made Meg cringe in disgust when she thought what the child had touched before, and mumbled: "Not telling!"

"Erik, come home. I'll let you and Tony pretend he was a boy. Just... come home. I want my child back!"

"Yes, I want Mama back! Mama loves her son!" Tony pleaded, "Mustn't make Mama sad!

Erik gave in. He could not deny his child a family with both parents caring for him. He just loved the child so very much and he knew Meg loved Tony too. But he doubted they would be just a happy family, even if he tried to be a good husband and father from now on. He just had to try his best now, for Tony, for his son. He would not repeat the mistakes his own parents had made in his education. His son would have loving parents, even if they were far from being a perfect happy family.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _That is a hard blow for Meg. Unlike Erik she does not know about the tradition of Balkan sworn virgins. Erik is fine with his child's decision to be a man from now on, he is familiar with girls becoming men in social status by choice because many Romani tribes in Balkan regions adopted the custom of "sworn virgins". To him this is nothing bad - to Meg who has been raised in French society and Catholic faith it is horrible._

 _Similar tradition exists in Afghanistan and Pakistan and is called Bacha posh, only with the difference, that the child is required to become a female again after puberty._

 _Thank you for reading and please review!_

 ** _The next chapter will be up after Christmas, I wish all my readers a merry Christmas!_**


	41. Family

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Family**

Unfortunately Erik fell ill shortly before Christmas. It started with a small cough he ignored, going to the variety to play the piano. He was composing again, this time a real classical ballet. And his son was sitting at the floor in the orchestra pit, wearing three pairs of socks and two underpants under his woolen trousers to keep him warm, playing with a xylophone. It was the only instrument the child could play and he did with much enthusiasm.

"I'm composing!" Tony told his grandmother proudly, "Dance-music. For piano and xylophone."

"I think your Papa is doing the composing," the old ballet mistress replied with a fond smile. No one ever earned that smile from her and Meg often complained to her mother that she was completely spoiling her grandchild.

"No! I'm composing. He helps!" Tony insisted and Erik shrugged with a proud grin, only to be forced to hunch over in a nasty coughing fit.

"Erik, this isn't good," his mother in law said worriedly.

"It's nothing. Tony, do you want to show her what we did compose? Classical ballet - setting for piano and xylophone. Ready?" Erik's voice was raspy and low and he had to clear his throat twice before he could speak at all.

They played. Meg and her mother exchanged a look and then Meg smiled, soon after her her mother. What they heard now were no tin-pan-tunes, no 'variety trash music' - this was classical ballet at its best. It was clearly composed for a dancer of the highest class. The piece was rather short, but it was a fantastic solo and the old ballet mistress could actually see the dance before her eyes, Erik's music was so very lively and descriptive, at least to her.

Meg didn't concentrate on the music - she was absolutely fascinated by the child. Tony was only two years old and he had a wooden xylophone. Erik had already taken away all those parts that could cause discordant sounds so the child was playing with only three claves. But to Meg's surprise the toddler always hit the right clave at the right time. It was just Erik playing and the child adding a few quite harmonic xylophone sounds. How could such a young child have this great sense of harmony? And the dexterity of his tiny hands to execute the right movement in the right time?

"Stage!" Tony said proudly and held up a piece of paper with absolute unrecognizable scrawling.

"Yes, Tony helps us with the stage design," Erik confirmed proudly, "With him being such a clever child I can retire in a few weeks..."

"That's Mama," Tony told an pointed to something that looked like an egg with a second egg as a head. The arms and legs were just single lines and they had far too many joints. "That's other dancers." More eggs and something that might be interpreted as triangle with much fantasy. "Stage set." Whatever the stage set was. It was just scrawling and spots of dirt on the paper, but Tony was happy with that.

"Vincent will be happy to work with that detailed template," Erik told him and winked at Meg. Of course Vincent would do the design. Who knew what Tony had thought when he had been drawing that? He was just two years old.

Another cough forced Erik to hold on to the piano or he might have fallen from the piano bench. "Maybe... I go home. Have a soup and some tea. An early bed for me tonight and tomorrow we go on working on this show."

* * *

It was not as easy as that. The next morning Meg found Erik shivering in his bed, suffering high fever. He could not get up, he felt dizzy and his breathing was labored. Worst of all Tony started coughing now. She asked the doctor to see them and when the tall man had pressed his ear to Erik's back he told them worriedly that Erik suffered bronchitis and was absolutely forbidden to leave the flat. It was cold enough as it was with only the stove in the kitchen to heat the flat. Open doors at all times so the little heat could spread to his room, or better, he should move to the parlor which was next to the kitchen and therefor warmer. And the baby too.

Meg wasn't happy about that. She now had Erik and Tony sharing Erik's bed the strongman had helpfully carried to the other room in the parlor, both coughing and sneezing and complaining about being bored. At least Erik was able to help Tony blowing his tiny nose, which the toddler could not to alone.

The only medicine was staying in bed, trying to keep warm - as warm as one could in a flat with no more than about 10° Celsius. But with the thin walls and only one stove it was absolutely impossible to heat it up more. Erik decided that they would need a stove in each room in the future, plus electric light and one room should be changed to be a bathroom with a stove for heating water and an indoor toilet. As long as these dreams kept him and Tony in bed, Meg was happy with that. She only hated to have to go downstairs to empty the chamber pot so often. Erik and Tony had to drink tea, lots of tea, and of course needed the chamber pot every so often.

Plus Tony couldn't control his coughing. He was spitting mucus everywhere, sometimes coughing so hard his tiny stomach turned and he brought up the tea and whatever he had eaten. Meg had a hard time cleaning up all the time, not that Erik didn't want to help, but he was too busy trying to breathe himself to do much.

At least inhaling hot steam helped to clear their noses and windpipes. Erik would sit on a chair, wrapped in a blanket, a pot of boiling salt-water on the table and Meg or her mother would put a blanket over him. Tony would sit on his lap and they would breathe in the hot steam as the doctor had told them to do. The more they did this, the easier their breathing became - and the more blankets were stained with snot and mucus. It was just unavoidable.

Tony hated sitting under the blanket so often and for such a long time. The only thing that kept him there was the stories his father told him. Stories about Europe, about Opera and of course about magic. And about a certain Opera Ghost who played many funny tricks on the staff, especially on the managers and the haughty primadonna.

As long as it kept the two from trying to go outside, Meg tolerated it with a sigh. She certainly disliked Erik indulging in reminiscences of his old life and, like most men did, glorifying the past. Especially Christine. The stories Erik told had only very little in common with the real happenings, he was making up so much Meg wondered why he didn't just resort to telling fairy tales.

The worst blow for her was when she overheard Erik telling his child that only one woman could save the lonely old ghost from his misery - the angelic Christine. Meg felt like slapping him. Who was there, carrying coals and firewood upstairs - four stories high? Who prepared soup and tea? Who went out to buy food? Who wiped up the child's vomit? Who emptied and cleaned the chamber-pot? Who washed the towels and handkerchiefs? If Erik had not been under the blanket with his child she would have hit him - but she didn't dare for she wouldn't risk the boiling hot water splashing on the toddler.

* * *

They missed the Christmas celebration. Meg and her mother were busy nursing Tony and Erik who were already recovering - and bored. Which meant they were constantly complaining about being bored to death. Finally Meg went to buy blocks of rather cheap paper and colored pencils, she was shocked how expensive these were. But they would keep Erik and Tony occupied for a few hours - hopefully.

The colored pencils did the trick. While Erik used them to sketch some new machine for his casino - he had found out that gamblers didn't like to wait. The sooner the machine told them if they had won or lost, the more they would play with it. So he wanted something like the slot machine he had already read about, but it should allow the gambler an illusion of being able to control the machine. So in his machine the rolls would roll and could be stopped by the gambler pressing the right button at the right time. No game of luck but rather a game of skill.

Like another game. A maze in a wooden box and one had to bring a small metal ball through the labyrinth which had holes in the bottom side. If the ball got struck or fell through a hole the game was over. The box was inside a larger glass box so it could not be handled directly, only with four levers from outside of the glass box. It was impossible to bring the ball through the labyrinth and Erik knew perfectly why: In the wooden box were magnets hidden which would of course be thrown around as the box moved and attract the metal ball in an erratic pattern. No one who did not know about the magnets had any chance of winning this game.

Tony was also busy sketching. His pictures were colorful daubing. But there was some pattern Erik did recognize: egg-like shapes. A larger one with a smaller one on top with four limbs which stood in various directions. It seemed to be impossible that an only two years old child would have the necessary dexterity to draw people like that. Usually children could not draw like this until they were at least five. Erik was absolutely convinced that his child would turn out to be a genius, even grander than he himself was. This child would be able to accomplish everything. "If he wants the moon, he will bring the moon down on Earth!" Erik beamed with pride and they laughed.

Being ill and having to spend nearly one month in bed with his child was a great experience for Erik. Not only did he learn to understand his child better, he experienced a feeling of being loved like he had never even dared to dream about. There was this tiny bundle of live, this child who admired him and loved him and had no other dream than being like him. When he lay awake at night, trying to calm the coughing and crying child, worriedly waiting for the next labored breath - sometimes the illness seemed much worse at night than it was at daytime - he thought about this. If this child wants to become like Erik, he just had to become a better man. He had to, or the child would end up as embittered old criminal constantly battling his drug-addiction.

It took time to notice that he had a wife who cared for him, even if she was constantly complaining and berating him for something. If he stopped listening to her - he had become quite good in ignoring her - he could pretend that she was a loving wife and worried mother, caring for him and his child when they were ill. If she would only stop complaining and berating him, it surely annoyed him! If he was stronger he might have engaged in a verbal fight or even threatened to slap her, but right now that he was so weak he could do nothing but ignore her constant nagging and try to get better as soon as possible.

But then he saw what she did for him. He knew that nursing him and his child was a disgusting job since both of them couldn't help sneezing, coughing and spitting mucus - even he didn't manage to keep himself and the bed clean all the time, especially in the night. Far too often he woke with the pillow a mess and wasn't sure if this was really Tony's fault or if he had coughed up mucus in his sleep without waking. Not being able to leave the flat - as cold as it was it was much warmer than the staircase - he depended on Meg fetching everything he needed and carrying away his waste. He knew that. But whenever he thought he ought to thank her, she started complaining for hours and whatever gratefulness he had felt ebbed away long before he had the chance to utter only one word.

The only one thing he could give to her was the ballet. He would arrange it for the small orchestra, which needed some simplification in the music, but Meg would be able to perform real ballet again. Only a short sequence, but she would show her skill again. He was sure she would love it, especially because it was the first time he wrote music for her and not for Christine or just for business.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Since it is holiday time I'm not sure if I will keep my schedule but I'll post at least one chapter a week. I'd love to receive some reviews!_


	42. Best Laid Plans

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Best Laid Plans**

Spring came and with it the usual trouble of opening the park. Madame Antoinette Giry had decided that a grand opening party would serve well to attract customers and Erik would have to decide if he would go for the normal entertainment or - as he had already begun with the luxury dark area - go for the rich customers. He decided that he would leave the normal entertainment business to others and position his park rather in the luxury segment of the entertainment business.

The opening was a great success. Giving free tickets to journalists proved to be a very good idea because some of them would actually write about the theme park that had entertainment for everyone. The dark area did not participate in the party - it was fenced off with a provisional wooden fence so no one would accidentally stumble in that part of the park. Erik preferred to keep that hidden, except the tunnel of horrors, that would be available for every man. No women, no children and certainly no men who looked like they might be weak. Of course teenagers paid huge sums to bribe the workers to get access to the forbidden tunnel of horrors as Erik had expected and instructed the employees accordingly. They would take the extra money and give it to Erik who would - if ever caught - give them a faked stern berating and they had a job-guarantee. A guaranteed job was worth more than any bribe money the upper class children could ever pay.

It was a rather cold day so most people enjoyed the indoor activities - the boys the "Men's Playground" and the girls the "Princess Hall", while men and women alike went to see the mechanic wonders - now a few more than before, especially some of the automatic games fascinated them. The only difference between the casino and the automatons in the Hall of Wonders were that one could play the games for a cheap price and never win anything in the Hall while in the casino real bets were made so the gamblers lost much money.

The variety had two magic shows and three miniature-opera shows that day, which meant Meg had to dance the new dance. She loved it. It was the first time Erik had written a beautiful piece of music just for her. The dance was called "Fairies in the Garden". The whole piece was about different fairies - some of them played by dancers, some by freaks - living in a garden, threatened by "King Winter" who wanted to destroy their flowers. In the end "King Winter" fell in love with the dancer. Happy end. Kids loved happy endings, as did adults. Erik sometimes wondered why Americans reacted so much better to happy endings than to tragic ones. Maybe to make them forget their hard life?

Erik had to talk to some of the rich customers who demanded to see him. He hated this. Being friendly and happy and nice was something that made him sick. Working three days without rest was not as demanding as having polite conversation for half an hour.

He was walking on eggshells when he realized that Riccy and his politicians were there too - with their families who enjoyed the park. "Signore Riccy, my friend!" Erik greeted him with false joy, "I'm honored! May I invite you to some refreshments?" He hated to have to give them food and drinks for free in one of the cafes, but if he did not it would be an affront which could backfire.

He hated to have the best private room in the most expensive bar occupied by these men - and worst of all sitting with them, pretending to be happy to have them there. He felt like they expected him to lick their boots in gratitude that they did not kick him away. He had to invite them to drinks and when the bottles of best wine and niblets were served he could not refuse to participate in eating and drinking. He surely didn't want politicians to think he might intend to poison them.

"The bar pianist is good," someone complimented him.

"Only the best for my most distinguished guests," Erik replied smoothly, wondering how he could be that submissive without being sick now.

"Not as good as you," Riccy stated as if it was a toast, "But then it would be a shame to waste your talents as bar pianist."

Erik felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Trying to hide it he took a sip from the wine, at the same time berating himself for this. He must not drink! Must stay sober! This was too dangerous to indulge in anything that might dull his wits! He put the glass down, smiling as if he had received a compliment.

"I hope you and your families enjoy the park?" he asked, not knowing how to start the conversation.

"O yes! It is amazing what you can do with wooden planks, mortar, plaster and color. Inside the Princess Hall one really might believe to be in the gardens of a castle. Amazing! And the Men's Playground - it is like you were in a wood, it even has a small pond. All inside the Hall! Perfect for playing cowboys and Indians!"

Erik eyed Riccy suspiciously. Why was the Italian praising his skill as illusionist like that?

"Did you know the story about Potemkin? He wanted to make the tsarina believe that there were villages, but they were just... decoration. Just some wood and color, but the tale goes that they were so artfully crafted, the illusion worked," Bruno Riccy went on as if this was just polite conversation.

Erik was alerted as if all men were aiming their guns at him. He was sure Riccy had come up with a new task for him and he was absolutely sure he wouldn't like it.

"Our friend Mr. Y here..." Bruno jovially patted Erik's shoulder. The masked man tried to hide the wave of nausea rolling through his guts. "...is even more talented than Potemkin. I'm sure he can create everything from a bit of cement and wood."

"Григорий Александрович Потёмкин," Erik said for lack of better idea, "A Russian would pronounce the name like this."

They ignored him. "Look at what he's done here - a few run-down warehouses are the new attractions and customers feel like they were in a museum showing not the past but the future."

"Too much praise..." Erik bowed his head and gestured with his hands, trying to stop Riccy. Whatever the man was up to, he wouldn't like it.

"What a pity he does not have a construction enterprise," One of the politicians said.

"O but he does. Have you seen what he did here in the park? Taking down buildings, erecting new ones, renovating others - that is precisely what a construction enterprise does!"

Erik felt his jaw slack and his mouth open. He had not realized this until the Italian had pointed it out to him. Actually it was right - what he had done was precisely what architects and contractors would do. Hire workers, draw plans, oversee the work... He had been doing this without even realizing. He had not only run varieties and an amusement park, he had designed and build it. He couldn't help smiling at his own blindness for not seeing that fact.

"You are right," one of the politicians replied with so much emphasis that Erik was sure to see a badly rehearsed theater play. They wanted to get him to do something and make it look like it had been his idea. "Mr. Y, you are really working marvels with nothing but dirt. Would you consider giving the city an offer? You might win the contract, the other bidders are... rather expensive."

Erik's head was spinning. He knew two things: First, this could be his chance to leave Coney Island behind and do some respectable work. Second: Whatever they were after, it was illegal. He could guess that they wanted him to win the contract, then build a Potemkin village and make it look like the real thing - and of course they expected to share the immense profit from that fraud. The politicians would be the ones to give him the contract, Riccy would be the one to orchestrate the whole scheme and of course there would be some experts to be bribed to state that wood, sand and water was ferroconcrete. He needed a way out of this, he had to refuse without really refusing. "I'm sorry, but I cannot build up two enterprises at the same time. The park isn't even finished and..."

"Of course you would need investors for the new company," another politician, a rather young one, stated, "As it happens per chance, our wives have some money they asked us to invest cleverly..."

And the picture fell into place. Unfortunately Erik saw perfectly well that they were setting him up. In the end he would be the one to get the blame and they would wash their hands off. If there had been any chance to record this conversation, Jonathan de Mer would kill to get this - but Erik was sure he would never get them to repeat their conversation speaking into a phonograph. What could he do to buy time to ask de Mer for help?

"Gentlemen, please, let me think about this. We wouldn't want to rush things, do we?" he asked, "Now, if you excuse me, I'm afraid I have to entertain other customers as well. Just... keep in mind that I am at your disposal, as always."

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 _to be continued... in the next year ;-)_

 _Happy New Year!_


	43. Best Laid Plans (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Best Laid Plans (cont.)**

Meg was wandering around in the variety between the tables for the guests. They enjoyed some food and champagne - no real champagne, of course, just some kind of cheap sparkling wine - and Meg had decided to chat with some of the guests. Some wanted to compliment the manager to this opening but Erik wasn't there and since she knew he hated polite conversation with the audience she decided she could do this.

"Miss Meg! What a pleasure to meet you!" one of the men at the expensive front tables exclaimed.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr...?"

"David MacArthur, at your service," the young man bowed before her and kissed her hand, "May I invite you to have a glass with us, Miss Meg?"

"Actually... that is just my stage name. I'm Mrs. Y," Meg replied.

"O how unfortunate!" MacArthur replied, "For every man in America! The most beautiful woman is already married!"

Meg laughed. She didn't know how to reply to that compliment, but it was good to get complimented by this nice young man.

"O please don't laugh at me," MacArthur went on, offering her a seat like a gentleman, "I've seen some of your shows, but today... today was awesome! This was so far beyond that variety, I could not trust my own eyes. You are far too good for a variety and on Coney Island no less! You are a great dancer, you belong on a different stage."

"Thank you, Monsieur," Meg replied and accepted the glass he offered, "I trained in France at the Opera in Paris."

"Paris?" MacArthur's eyes went wide, "What fortunate event brought a primaballerina from Paris to New York - and how blind are managers here that she dances in such humble abode?"

Meg laughed again. "I was just leader of a row, not principal dancer," she refused the compliment politely, "And when I arrived here, I didn't speak English, so finding a job was not easy."

"Really? No, impossible, your English is flawless!"

Meg was convinced that MacArthur was lying. But why? Just to be polite and entertain her? She clearly spend to much time around Erik, his paranoia seemed to have spread and she was mistrustful.

"O, Mrs. Y, if Mr. Y wasn't your husband, I would ask you to cancel your contract immediately and audition for an opera house. There are several opera houses and music halls and theaters in New York - and as it happens my uncle is the manager of one of them. Maybe I could ask you to audition there?"

"Maybe you give me your calling card and I think about this."

* * *

Erik felt the warning pressure in his chest that told him he needed some relief from his stress soon or he might do something stupid. He just wished there was any pill he could just swallow that would make the painful pressure go away immediately. A glass of wine usually did the trick, but he already knew that he was at risk of becoming addicted. His child wouldn't grow up with a drunkard as father! No, certainly not! Maybe a stroll at the beach at night and the cool air would help him clear his head.

Without thinking he went through the park, watching people leave. Not all of them left, some had a room in one of the hotels and would stay for the night.

The dark area of the park was buzzing with customers in various states of intoxication. A good start for the season.

Erik watched some of the dancers from both cabarets leaving the bar at the beach with rich men, obviously being in 'private calls'. Suzie had some new lover as had Tilly. This was to be expected. They were easily persuaded to spend a night in some hotel suite rather than their flat.

"Mr. Y!" the tenant of the opium den called him, "Your idea with the water pipe was great! They love it! Want to give it a try?"

Erik's first thought was: No. I should not do it. But then - he did smoke cigars, so why not try a hookah?

As he entered the cellar and breathed in the thick smoke he coughed and felt tears burning in his eyes. How could anyone exist in so much smoke? Men were lying on lush settees and some even on the carpet in corners, smoking pipes, cigarettes (of sorts) or having a drink. All of them seemed to be so occupied with that they didn't even realize others were there.

The hookah was a large water pipe which could be smoked by six men at the same time. Only three mouthpieces were occupied. Erik went closer and noticed that the men ignored him completely. Didn't they see his mask? Or were just so used to seeing him that they thought nothing of it?

He sat down and took a breath but not drawing it into his lungs. Like most cigar smoking men he would only take the smoke into his mouth, never into his lungs. Hashish. He knew the smell, but had never tried it himself. It was said to calm men down, he had seen men moving around like they were in trance after smoking that stuff. He could use a dose of calmness before returning home. Maybe he would be able to sleep that night, he needed it, but as long as the painful pressure in his chest wasn't gone he knew he would not be able to sleep no matter how weary he was.

"If you do not draw it in properly, you won't feel it," someone advised in a slurred speech.

Erik gave it a try, drawing in the smoke - and nearly choking on it. Coughing he pushed himself up, he needed air and he needed it now. He stumbled upstairs and managed to leave the house before the coughing fit forced him to lean against the wall because he could not decide where upside and down was. Clinging to the wall to steady himself his body convulsed and he was violently sick.

"You don't react well to this," someone said behind him, "Do you need help?"

"No... maybe... Just a few minutes." Erik sank down, not caring where he sat, his back against the wall and stared up in the sky at the stars. They had never looked so bright - and they were dancing in a weird pattern. Was this real?

"Come, I'll take you home," Squelch said. Wait - Squelch? Where had the strongman come from this fast? One second he wasn't there, the next he was? Whatever was happening around him, Erik surely didn't like it - especially because he made a shameful display of his overindulgence in public. All of his employees would see and most likely some of his customers. But those who were there at this time should not be able to see anything because they were drugged themselves or too busy flirting with whores so they wouldn't mind another drugged man sitting on the street.

Squelch grabbed him and helped him stand, then offered to carry him home. "No. I can walk!" Erik refused, fully aware that his ability to walk was limited and the only thing that kept him on his feet was the strongman's firm grasp on his arm.

"Good! If you are coherent enough to know that it is not as bad as I assumed," came Dr. Gängelmann's voice from behind him. Who else was there to witness his shame? "What did you smoke?"

"Hashish. And I do not like it."

"At least you won't try that again," the doctor dryly commented, "Leaves only a hundred different drugs you could become addicted to. I assume you are going to try all of them anyways so I won't waste my breath berating you."

Erik would have glared at him, had he been able to look up from the ground. They were running so fast, he had to concentrate on each step. Only that they weren't running, he only perceived it as a weird speed for he was slowed down by the drug so much.

He was only dimly aware that someone helped him the many many stairs to the fourth floor where he lived and that this was the flat he shared with his family. "Please - I don't want my child to see me like this," he begged.

"I'm sure Tony is asleep," Squelch replied, "I'll put you to bed."

"No! I can do that myself!"

"Don't complain to me if you end up sleeping in your suit on the floor beside the bed..."

* * *

Erik woke up early because Tony had decided to climb into his bed and asked him: "I can't sleep any more. Tell me a story!"

Erik groaned. Hopefully the child would learn not to be an early bird when it grew up. "Tony, can't you tell me a story for a change?" he asked, trying to ignore the pounding headache.

"Okay!" Tony took off one of his grey socks and pulled it over his right hand, pretending it to be a sock puppet. "Shark shark shark, swimming at the sea. Shark shark shark, swimming at the sea."

Erik let out a frustrated moan. The child had a penetrating voice. "I'm not sure everyone in these two blocks of flats wants to know about the shark," he mumbled, "A bit quieter, if you please."

Tony immediately lowered his voice but continued to sing: "Shark shark shark, swimming at the sea" letting his sock puppet "swim" through the air as he sat on Erik's chest like his father was a horse. Erik closed his eyes and dozed off to the monotonous singing form the child. Only to wake up with a start as Tony suddenly changed his song and cried out loud: "Shark attack!" letting his rather unwashed sock-pupped "bite" Erik's nose. The child laughed loudly as his father woke with a start and looked at him in confusion.

"You win. I'm getting up," Erik groaned, "Just wake your mother so she can prepare breakfast." He would win a few minutes rest until breakfast was ready... hopefully without waking to an unwashed sock being pressed to his nose!

* * *

"I have the most wonderful news!" Meg informed them when they sat at the breakfast table together.

Erik couldn't eat, he only sipped on his tea, trying to overcome his hangover. He stared at his plate, picking at his food, wondering why Meg insisted on oatmeal for breakfast. It was oatmeal with milk and honey, the only thing Tony accepted for breakfast - why had all of them had to eat that now? Why didn't she accept that milk and honey were absolutely not digestible with a hangover? And then there was Antoinette sitting with them, helping Tony to eat to make sure he ate more of that stuff then would end up on the table or on the floor. Tony had a habit of gesturing wildly especially with a spoon in his hand. Erik would eventually have to tell her mother to move out, he didn't want his mother in law constantly watching them - even if they needed her help with Tony far too often.

"Yes, my dear?" Antoinette asked her daughter.

"I have an appointment for an audition in one of the opera houses in New York," Meg informed them, beaming with happiness.

Erik dropped his teacup in shock. "You what? Why?"

"Aren't you happy for me?"

What could he answer to that? "Of course I'm happy for you. It is just... the show is written for you, no one else can do this, even if I ask Irene to be my assistant in the magic shows again. We would have to... cancel the Fairy-Dance."

"Not immediately. An audition does not mean I'm going to dance each day - maybe we can find a schedule that allows me to do both?" Meg suggested.

"Thank you, but no. I know what it is like to do too many jobs at one time, I won't ask you to do that. Good luck, Meg. I hope you get that job and have a promising career as ballerina," Erik answered unhappily. He certainly did not like this, but he would not - could not - stand in her way. She deserved better than a variety, she deserved to dance in a real opera house. If he was offered a job in a respectable orchestra he would accept immediately and leave Coney Island behind, not that this would ever happen, but if she had the chance, he would not forbid it.

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	44. Danger

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Danger**

Erik was not surprised that Jonathan de Mer wanted to see him. The prosecutor knew that their plan to make the big catch and destroy the criminal organisation was in a critical stage now and he didn't trust Erik to go through with it. So the prosecutor came to Coney Island, disguised with false beard and wig, dressed like any common working class man, to meet Erik and orchestrate the execution of his plan himself.

Erik was not happy to see de Mer, he didn't like to have the prosecutor there, thinking this was too high a risk - if anyone found out de Mer was still alive, he, Erik, would pay a price he didn't even dare to think about.

They sat in Erik's office, this room provided the most privacy for it was not easy to overhear what anyone said in that room - unless they would be shouting. "I do not like this, Mr. Y," de Mer began, "You presented this to me as if you were setting them up when in truth they are setting you up. You became too dangerous for them so they want to make you their stooge - and then you would be the only one to take the blame in the end."

Erik sighed. This was what he had feared before, but it hurt him to hear it from the prosecutor. Did that man take him for a fool? "I know. That's why I asked you what you need to win against them in court!" he snapped, "And please don't tell me you need their written confession - I could do that, but I think you wouldn't like my methods."

"I do not even want to know anything about them," de Mer replied, "Now you will make me your bookkeeper. Officially my name is Jonathan Smith now until this is over. And you will go along with their plan. Plus, you will stay away from drugs, you need to be in full possession of your wits, is that understood?"

The prosecutor's tone was too much for Erik to endure. He was done being ordered around and wouldn't endure it now. "You stupid idiot, what do you think you are? Do you really think I would endure this audacity? I could kill you here and now! You are a dead man!"

"Control your temper, sir," the prosecutor replied astonishingly unimpressed by Erik's outburst, "If you want to survive this you need my help. And I need yours. So if you are able to do that, please put your personal feelings aside and do this like a grown up man."

Erik was torn between fury and shame. He knew this was a critical meeting and he mustn't let his temper ruin it, but at the same time wanted to kill the haughty official here and now. "How do you know of drugs?" he asked, not bothering denying it. Everyone of his employees would know that he sometimes overindulged in this vice and would behave erratically afterwards. Unfortunately too many people knew by then to deny this.

"Singer," the prosecutor replied, "Mr. Singer kept me informed about you. Or do you think I trusted you?"

Erik leaned back in his seat behind his rather messy desk and studied the man in the chair before him. He sighed. "Singer. I should have known that rat would betray me. He has every reason to hate me."

"Hate you? No. He hates Bruno Riccy," Jonathan de Mer replied, "He hates him so much that he told me he would have given you the variety for free if he had known you were really up against that man."

Erik didn't know what to say now, so to buy himself time to think he offered the other man a cigar. Together they sat there, smoking cigars, Erik still trying to figure out what to say or to do. Finally he decided to ask why.

"I cannot tell you, but it has something to do with Riccy's methods of bringing people in line."

The masked man could guess what had happened. Singer had been beaten viciously like he himself had experienced. The second threat was the rape of one of the family members. Knowing that Singer had brought his family to live somewhere else, it was not hard to deduce what had happened. Erik closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure out how to keep his family safe. "I need to send them away..." he mumbled.

"Whom?" de Mer asked.

"My wife and child. They cannot stay here. I can't risk..." he found he could not even speak about it, his throat constricted in fear and no more words would come.

"You can't send them away now or it would alarm Bruno Riccy. He has his thugs doing various jobs as 'security guards' on Coney Island - don't you think they keep him informed about you?"

"O God, I'm such an idiot!" Erik groaned, hitting his forehead with one hand, as he realized the problem. He needed to find a secret hiding place. Maybe a ship? They could board a ship that would leave the port the moment Riccy was arrested. Even if the police failed to arrest the thugs they wouldn't be able to take revenge for their Boss' arrest. At least not on Meg and Tony. Well, maybe he ought to send Antoinette with them, just to make sure.

"You won't find many men in this state to disagree..." Jonathan dryly remarked and smirked.

Erik glared at him for a moment, wondering if the other man was making a joke or if he was just being seriously offended. "Says a dead man," he shot back.

It took them much time to come up with a plan that would save Erik and give de Mer the evidence he needed. The problem was that they would need to get the signature of each and every man whom they wanted to catch on one incriminating paper. Which would be possible, because the corrupt officials, experts and politicians would have to support Erik's estimate of costs and they would have to inspect the building site. De Mer suggested to have a photographer secretly taking pitures of the building side, documenting that Erik would build only fake buildings like scenery which would of course look good but not last for long and the experts and politicians would have seen that. One signature on a paper that they were there to inspect the building site would be enough to prove their guilt. Wood and plaster could never last as long as ferroconcrete and certainly not like real stonework. But of course building a house from nothing but wood and strawmats covered in plaster would be much cheaper than using stronger materials. Only that the building would not provide real protection against coldness, would easily succumb to a thunderstorm or fire.

"All very well, but how do we catch Riccy? He's the man behind all of this and his name will be nowhere," de Mer concluded.

"His insurance company. Just send in the tax investigators - you'll find the 'volcano insurance' in almost every books here on Coney Island," Erik said, "And even if having such insurance is not illegal and no one will testify against Bruno Riccy, I'm sure that the books of his insurance are a mess. Plus his financing the orphanage - the orphanage is just money laundering. Next to the orphanage for immigrant children is a factory for cheap clothing, the orphans work there. Officially the factory makes money and pays workers - but there are just few foremen. The other workers are the kids. You just have to send tax inspectors there - they'll see that there are no workers, but in the books there are wages being paid - I assume Riccy who is the owner of the factory keeps the money for himself."

"How do you know of the orphans and the factory?"

Erik shrugged and grinned uncomfortably. "The costumes for the Princess Hall and the Men's Playground... why do you think they are so very cheap?"

"So you are deep in this..." de Mer sighed, "Why? Did you really need to participate in every infamous action?"

Erik grinned sheepishly. "You told me that you need information - the only way to get them was to be their workhorse."

* * *

While Erik was busy executing de Mer's plan, Meg went to the audition. She was excited to dance at a real opera house again. It turned out not to be one of the large, most famous houses, but it was a real opera house. She was not alone. They had left Tony with Attamamma and Vincent, Vincent was surprised that Tony's ability to draw was far beyond his age. The child shouldn't be able to draw as good as he did - even if the paintings were just childish daubing. A not even three years old child drawing like a six or seven years old was talented, so he wanted to let Tony "help" with some designs.

Meg was accompanied by her mother and they were both nervous. In Paris, neither one had been that nervous for they knew what Parisian audience expected and the quality of the other dancers - here in New York they didn't. What if Americans preferred a different style? How good were the other dancers? And, Meg's worst fear: She had been dancing in vaudeville shows for years and she had put on weight, not just in her pregnancy. Would she still be able to compete with other ballet dancers?

She was surprised how many female dancers came to audition. Some of them obviously not properly trained but some were just marvelous. Meg's heart sank as she saw them doing their warm ups. She herself had changed into a proper attire as ballerina, wore ballet shoes and made sure to warm up, noticing to her dismay that her mother had been right about the additional ten kilogram being a problem now. She soon noticed the difference in classical ballet and vaudeville shows wasn't that large - on the contrary when she had to sing in some of the shows and dance it was by far more taxing than doing only the dancing. And she had done classical ballet in the past and even recently: the piece Erik had composed for her. She felt bad that she had chosen that piece for her audition to win herself a job far away from Coney Island. But he had given his consent, even wished her good luck, so why not?

She cringed briefly as she heard the pianist in the rehearsal room where the audition was taking place stumbling through the music. He lacked the skills to play this one sight-read. No time to ponder, she had to get ready and do the dance. A side-glance showed her that other dancers were waiting in the room, the officials - manager, ballet master, director and some other men - sitting together, carefully watching her, and her mother standing aside with other elderly women, anxiously clasping her hands. It was good to know she was there, but at the same time it made it worse for she wasn't just her mother but her ballet mistress and choreographer.

When Meg stood there, a deep elegant curtsy, head bowed, arms spread with a bright smile she only felt her heart pounding like it never did when she danced on stage.

"What do you think?" the manager asked the other men.

"I'd rather like to meet the composer..." the conductor answered.

"Miss, what is this music?" another man asked.

"My husband wrote it," Meg answered, getting up to stand in a graceful position befitting a dancer.

"You husband? Miss... pardon, Mrs... what was your name?"

"Meg Giry... um, sorry, no. My name is Mrs. Meg Y."

"Never heard of that name. Immigrant?"

"From France."

"Previous booking?"

"Opera Populaire in Paris, France. I was leader of a row there and got smaller solo parts," Meg informed them.

That got the attention of all of them. "I've been in Paris recently, I did not see you at the Opera Populaire," the conductor informed her.

"I came to America..." Meg hesitated. How long had she been in America? She was so nervous she couldn't recall. "...more than five years ago." It was correct, she hoped. And of course it would explain why she hadn't been in Paris lately.

"I see. And in these five years you didn't dance?"

"I did!" Meg protested.

"Where?"

There was a rather long silence as Meg felt herself blushing in shame. She felt like everyone would look down on her like she had a disgusting disease if she admitted that she had been in a variety. But saying nothing would make it worse. "In my husband's variety," she answered.

"Variety? Which one? There are so many in New York."

"Coney Island. The... the amusement park. The variety is called Sam Singer's Spectactular Show." She wished the ground would open and swallow her up. It had been a mistake to come here, a terrible mistake. She was trembling as she noticed that the present men discussed something among themselves which she could not understand for they kept their voice low.

"Your husband is the masked magician Mr. Y? Did he write this dance music?"

"Ballet music," Meg replied defiantly, "It is a full ballet solo of high quality and no cheap dance music like one can hear from every street performer." She hated to hear them calling it "dance music", that piece of music that was so dear to her for it was the only piece Erik had composed - not constructed, really composed - for her and her alone.

"I see. You may change now and wait with the others."

* * *

It felt like an eternity before the ballet master left the room and approached the large group of dancers with a piece of paper in his hand. He began do read the names of those who would get the large solo parts. Meg was not among them, but she has assumed something like that. She had seen other dancers and had to admit that some of them were far better than she was.

Meg grew even more nervous, she didn't feel her legs or her arms any more, she was tensed up to breaking point. The ballet master read another list of names with the dancers who would get small solo parts. She was not among them and her heart sank. Was she already too old? Too fat? Had they prejudice against her because she had been in a variety? Around her dancers were either embracing each other happily because they found their name on the list or crying in disappointment.

The ballet master finally came to the list of the dancers who would just be in the corps de ballet. After a long list of other names he said: "Mrs. Meg Y" in a completely emotionally detached voice.

Meg cried with relief and went to embrace her mother.

"I'm so proud of you, dear," Antoinette Giry told her, "This is what we always dreamed of. But I must say that if you had listened to me and kept strict diet as I advised, you might have won a minor solo part. Nothing big, you aren't that good, but with proper training maybe in the future..." Meg stopped listening. She knew her mother was proud even if she wasn't able to say so. Meg knew her mother was torn between the role of the proud mother and the role of the harsh ballet mistress, as always.

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 _Since Friday is a holiday, the next chapter will be up Monday._

 _I'd love to get a review, please._


	45. Secrets

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Secrets**

Meg's engagement at the opera brought a series of problems for them. The first was that there was no train that late at night to take her home after the performance. There was no way she could dance at the opera and live in their flat on Coney Island. She needed a place in New York, but the rents there were exorbitant. Cheaper quarters were far away from the opera, which must have been inteded by the city architects, because the mighty and rich didn't want the poor too close - the poor carried diseases and the rich suspected every normal working class man and woman to be a thief. Every poor person must be a thief, dishonest, carrying disease and being a prostitute and drug addicted. Well, this was not true, but the rich didn't even think that without the starving masses they oppressed they wouldn't have houses, food, clothing...

For Meg it was impossible to rent a flat. She needed something cheaper, maybe she could find a room as a lodger? But even that was too expensive close to the opera where she would work now and she was scared of having to walk a long way at night after the performance without anyone to protect her. Most of the other dancers and chorus girls shared flats they could not afford alone, which would provide safety. Suddenly Meg was scared. She would be alone for the first time in her life, her mother would stay on Coney Island to help Erik because he could not run an amusement park and raise and educate a child alone. Meg was happy to know that her mother would be there as voice of reason if Erik had one of his fits and her mother surely was able to protect Tony from his father, should Erik lose his temper around the child.

But right now the young dancer would have preferred not to be alone. She felt lost as she went to the opera with the intention of asking her colleagues if they knew a room she could rent or at least a bed in a room. She was of course aware that she might have to share the room with others, but was fine with that.

"Mrs. Y!" MacArthur greeted her cheerfully with a deep bow, "What extraordinary pleasure to meet you here!"

"Mr. MacArthur, thank you," Meg replied warmly, "I did follow your advise and now I am a member or the corps de ballet."

He frowned. "No solo dancer? Not the primaballerina? Impossible! These stupid old men must have been blind not to see your extraordinary talent!"

"Mr. MacArthur, you are most kind, but I do not deserve your flattering. I've seen the other dancers and cannot really complain," Meg replied, rejecting his complient.

"Your day may come," he answered with a huge smile, "May I invite you to have dinner with me today?"

"Actually... I have no time, I'm sorry. I have to find a room."

"You do not have a flat in the city? But your husband is so very rich, having the most sophisticated luxury amusement park on Coney Island, surely you can afford a flat?"

Meg had no intention discussing their financial worries - and that Erik certainly could not afford to buy or even rent a room for her in this noble area - with MacArthur, no matter how friendly and helpful he was.

"Maybe I could help until you find a flat of your liking?" MacArthur offered.

"No! Thank you, sir, but I have to refuse that generous offer. I am a married woman and cannot..." she was angry when she thought he was finally showing his true colors.

"Mrs. Y, you misjudge me! My old mother would love to have someone to keep her company at breakfast, you could have a room in her flat. She is living with two maids, but they aren't at an intellectual level to talk to my mother. But you could tell her about music, opera, ballet and she loves that so much. Unfortunately she's confined to a wheelchair and cannot visit the opera now."

"O. I'm sorry," Meg answered, her thoughts racing. Living with a crippled old lady couldn't be bad, could it? And it would only be for a few weeks until she found another place.

* * *

Meg soon found the old Mrs. MacArthur a pleasant company. The old lady didn't need someone to tell her stories, she just wanted to tell stories of her life, her family. She had been very young when she had come to America with her parents, her parents being poor but worked extremely hard and so they could afford to send her to school and finally she had become a secretary for a rich man who had taken her as mistress, then, when his wife died, married her. Mrs. MacArthur had eleven children, seven stepchildren and four of her own.

Meg found she missed her family. She missed her child, she missed her mother and even if she hadn't thought about that, she missed Erik. He had been ignoring her lately, but then, he had been so busy she had to admit that he just did not really have time for her. And now she missed these few moments with him and their child. He absolutely adored Tony, she knew that, and even if she did not support his way of raising the child as a boy she had to admit that Tony was happy. And now the child was miles away and had to go to bed without a good night kiss from its mother. Would Tony understand that? Or would he think his mother abandoned him? She shouldn't be dancing at the opera. She really ought to go back to her child.

But she did not. At daytime she had no time to even think about going back, she had to be there at endless rehearsals and costume fittings - not so different from her job at the variety only everything much larger and more expensive - and of course the performances. It wasn't an easy life for her since she just didn't have the time to take the train to Coney Island and back. It wasn't that far, but she did not have one day off in the first three months!

The only people outside the opera she spoke with were the old Mrs. MacArthur, who was living more or less in the past and sometimes Meg wondered if the old woman knew who she was or thought her to be one of her daughters, and Mr. David MacArthur who made sure she came home at night after the performance safely. He admired her, saw every performance and soon Meg noticed that he was courting her, which she had to refuse. She was a married woman and he had to accept that they could never be more than friends.

"My husband is very jealous," Meg warned him, "If he ever finds out you are that friendly to me he's going to kill you."

"Hrmpf. If he's that jealous, why do I not see him once? Why doesn't he care for you?"

"Mr. MacArthur..."

"David. How often do I have to ask you to call me David?"

Meg laughed. "At least as many times as there are notes in music. And beware - my husband is always composing more!" She liked David and if she had not been married she might have enjoyed this. To be true, she did enjoy his attention, his courting, his little gifts and his politeness. He was the opposite of Erik, when it came to that - Erik had never really been courting her, he had more or less taken her for granted when he was still mourning his lost love for Christine. David was young and a real gentleman when Erik was... well, Erik. Not that he could not be a gentleman, his character flaws just made it impossible for him to act as gentleman for more than a few hours a day.

"I still don't believe he would challenge me to a duel," David MacArthur replied with a smile, "He can't. I'm far above his social status."

"Don't say that!" Meg snapped, angered beyond measure, "Don't you dare talking like that about my husband! He's a genius as a musician, architect and designer! He even worked for the Shah of Persia!"

"Forgive me, ma'am!" David MacArthur laughed, raising his hands, "I won't question your love for him again. But I still think you deserve better."

"He's a very busy man," Meg sighed, "Building up such park from literally nothing is..."

"The American dream, Mrs. Meg," MacArthur replied gently with a smile, "To arrive here with nothing and become a rich man through hard and honest work with God's blessing. He's living a dream which most immigrants are denied."

Meg shrugged. "Well... yes. Do you come upstairs? Your mother will want to see you." She was glad the old woman was always there for so they had a chaperone and she wouldn't have to fend off unwanted attention. Or would it really be unwanted? Her husband hadn't touched her in years! Actually he had not touched her since their marriage. Was he no longer interested now that it was legal? Or was it that Tony and her mother - and most likely his three friends in the next flat - would hear everything in the house where the walls were that thin?

* * *

Meg was really happy when she finally got three days off in summer to visit her family. Finally! She was excited to see her child, her mother, her husband and yes, even their friends, the musicians, the freaks...

She had taken the first train and arrived early. Maybe she would have a chance to have breakfast with her family? The thought made her nearly run to the blocks of flats where she lived. She rushed upstairs and found the door to their flat open. If Erik had just left, she should have met him at the staircase - what was happening here? She rushed into the flat, a vague feeling of dread in her heart.

Tony was sitting on the floor, crying. Next to him was Irene, trying to calm him. Her mother busy cleaning up the mess after the table had been turned over.

"Mother, what happened?" Meg asked shocked. What had happened?

"Mama!" Tony exclaimed and rushed into her embrace, crying, "Mama! Daddy doesn't love me any more! Why does daddy not love me?"

"O my dear, I'm sure your daddy loves you," Meg assured her child, then turned to her mother: "What happened?"

Antoinette Giry sighed. "A clash of tempers, that's what happened. Tony is at the defiant age and he is the worst case I ever heard of! He surely did inherit his father's temper and stubbornness!" When she returned from the small kitchen Meg noticed that her cheek was reddened.

"Did Erik strike you?" she asked.

Antoinette nodded. "We had another disagreement. Let's say I'm not used to a man ordering me around any more - and he does not accept me making the rules here."

"And Tony? What did he do to Tony?"

"Not much. Just a few slaps... O Meg, Erik has such a terrible idea about educating a child. Of course I know one cannot let the kid do whatever he wants and that there must be punishment for disobedience. Spare the rod, spoil the child. But Erik tends to be more creative. It began after you left. Tony learned to say 'No' to everything. Everything was a 'no'. Get up. No. Get dressed. No. Eat breakfast. No. At first Erik tried to reason with Tony, giving him a chance to overcome that you weren't there, but then... I'm not sure what Erik is doing but his patience is wearing thin. He comes home each night tensed up to a point where he reacts with pure violence to the tiniest noise. No one dares to speak to him, I lock Tony and myself in our room to be safe, he..."

"Is he drinking again or taking drugs?" It was Meg's worst fear that Erik would suffer a relapse. She knew better than her mother what he was capable of when he was high.

"As far as Dr. Gangle can tell, no. I have no idea what he's doing, some new project in the city he keeps secret, but it drives him mad. He can barely keep his temper in check, he hurt so many of the employees, there were already broken noses and cracked ribs, he is loosing control, but in a way I've never seen before."

Meg sat down, Tony on her lap, he was sobbing in her jacket. The child war growing too heavy to carry him for longer.

They had both seen what Erik was capable of at the Opera in Paris. They had been there when Buquet died and the chandelier crashed. They had seen him kill. Meg shuddered. What was happening here? Had Erik seen her with MacArthur? Would he kill her now? She had not betrayed him, but he would not listen to her, she was sure of that.

"Erik's idea of punishing Tony is to give the child exactly what he wants to the extreme. Tony didn't want to get up, so Erik tied him down in the bed and ordered that he stayed like this for at least 24 hours. Of course I freed Tony as soon as Erik was gone. When Tony refused to eat, Erik would withhold food for 24 hours. Of course I secretly fed the child, you cannot starve a kid like that! When Tony complains about heat or cold Erik puts him in the bathtub in either too hot or too cold water, even dunking him. When I asked Erik why he did this, he answered that Tony had to learn not to show any weakness - even admitting that such things as needs exist is forbidden. Erik wants Tony to obey each command perfectly and immediately. And Tony is just a two years old child!" Antoinette sank down on another chair, pushing back a lock of hair from her face, as she went on, tears streaming down her cheeks: "Erik is a demanding and unforgiving teacher. Tony far too often felt the whip, and he's so small! But Tony never gives in. Yesterday he told Erik that he could beat him to death but could not make him apologize. I don't know if Tony lives to see his third birthday and that is in only three months!"

"Can you hold Tony for me?" Meg asked and handed the child to Irene who was waiting for something to do.

"Be careful," Irene warned Meg, "He just left and you are upset. Do not provoke him, I don't know what he might do now."

* * *

Meg was quite sure where she would find Erik. And she was right. He was sitting at the beach in the shadow of the pier, nearly hidden in his light brown suit with the light brown cap. Since when did he wear a cap? He usually wore hats.

He was throwing small stones and trash he found at the beach in the sea as far as he could. When he saw her, he turned his masked face to her, but turned back to the sea without saying anything. Meg went to him and sat down beside him in the sand.

"Did your mother enlighten you what monster I am?" Erik asked bitterly.

"She told me what happened. But I want to hear it from you as well before I decide if I can leave Tony with you or not. I have to protect our child, I won't allow you to beat him to death!"

Erik stared at her in shock and suddenly began to cry. It was frightening to see him cry in his hopelessness. "You think I'd kill my own child? I'm trying to keep him save! Do you know what danger we are in? His survival depends on his ability to endure hardships and willingness to follow every of my orders to the letter quickly. But he is... he is... so stubborn! He'll kill himself if he does not change soon! I have no time to do this in a gentle way - if he does not obey each and every command immediately he's as good as dead! So if I hit him, I do this just to save his life! Better a few slaps than death, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Meg asked, frightened.

Erik leaned closer to her, reaching out. She noticed that his knuckles were bloodied, but it was not a fresh wound. Maybe a fist-fight the night before? She shuddered but allowed him to draw her to his breast, one arm around her shoulders as they sat in the sand staring at the sea.

"We are at war, Meg. If bullets are in the air and I say 'duck' and he doesn't obey immediately he's dead. If I say 'no sound' and he decides to stomp around and cry he's dead - and with him everyone in the same hidingplace. Do you know what war is, Meg? Bullets in the air, shells taking down buildings, shrapnells everywhere... and these buildings are nothing like the solid houses we build in France! Meg, tell me, what can I do?"

She didn't know how to answer. What happened? Was he losing his mind? There was no war, there were no bullets, no shells. They were in New York and it was a civilized state. Coney Island was an amusement center for families, there was no war, not the slightest fighting!

"Are you... thinking of the war against the Prussians?" she asked. Meg had not been there, her mother had send her away from Paris in time to visit some relative who lived in some completely unimportant village in the countryside so she had - luckily - missed the war. But Erik might have been in Paris - what had happened to him? Was he going mad, thinking there was war when there was none?

Erik chuckled in a low voice but there was madness in his laughter. "No. But I cannot tell you. The less you know the better. Meg, never go anywhere unaccompanied, promise! Stay as close to large crowds of rich people as possible. Please. It is for your safety. If you want to visit, send a telegram and someone will come to accompany you. We are in grave danger but must never show that we know. We have to act as if everything was normal! Meg, please... I... please, be strong for our child. Please."

She pushed him away at arm's length but held on to his shoulders. "Erik, are you mad? What drugs did you take? This is insane, there is no war, there is no danger..."

"If you only knew," he whispered, "I cannot tell you now. Just know so much: I will protect our child. I may not be able to protect everyone, but I will do everything to protect Tony. But I need your help and that of your mother, if she continues to oppose me I won't be able to protect him. Do you understand this? I cannot see my child harmed, I cannot lose Tony, I cannot..."He looked like he might break down sobbing like a child every moment now and her heart went out to him. Whatever he feared, he was not scared for his own life, what he feared most was losing his child.

"O Erik... I should never have left to work somewhere else. I should have stayed, you and Tony, you need me."

"No!" He shook his head almost violently, "No! Let everyone believe we broke up and are close to divorce. That is the best way to get them off your trail. You'd be an unworthy hostage if they think we broke up - then they won't kidnap you. Go back and pursue your career. And when this is over, I'll buy a box and applaud you when you dance."

This was the sweetest thing he had ever said to her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	46. Breaking Apart

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Breaking Apart**

The few days Meg spend with her family were not easy. Tony really was in the defiant age to a degree where he refused to obey any command and recklessly tested the nerves of his mother. Tony would even bite and hit her, purposefully wet the bed and threaten to jump out of the window. Meg didn't know what to do and finally tied the child to some sort of leash. It looked like a dog's leash only that the child wouldn't wear a collar but a leather harness. With that she could control the child and Tony could not try to climb on the cupboard and reach the knifes or try to jump out of the window or try to put his hand in the fire of the stove.

"Ingenious," Erik complimented her, "As long as he doesn't obey I could keep him under control and out of harm's way in this manner." Meg felt awful. Erik was keeping the child in a tiny wooden cage whenever he felt that was necessary and she tied it to a leash. This child grew up more like a pet than a human being but then - they could not risk a three year old child running into the sea just to scare its parents! Tony had a habit or doing exactly the opposite of every command.

When it was time for Meg to go to the train station, Tony wrapped his tiny arms and legs around her left leg to prevent her from leaving, screaming as if someone was torturing him. Erik wasn't there so it was up to Antoinette Giry to pry the struggling child from her daughter. Meg felt horrible. What kind of mother was she, leaving her child when it needed her so badly? She was crying all the way to the train station and when she was sitting in the train. She was still crying as David MacArthur came to take her home from the train station. He waited for her in his carriage with a large bunch of flowers in his hand.

* * *

Erik was not better off, on the contrary, it was far worse. He was working close with Jonathan de Mer who coordinated the trap they laid for the renovation project with the people who backed him and arranged that Erik would of course be paid for his work as would the workers he had to employ and the materials, cheap as they were, they would cost something.

It was by far not as easy as Erik had assumed. They would found a limited liability company with him as the official director and Bruno Riccy as the shareholder. The others would be undisclosed partners and not even themselves, just as guardians investing money for their wives. De Mer was sure that the "money of their wives" would in truth be black money from some past bribery or fraud, but he couldn't prove that. The problem was, this would not prove any guilt on their part. They invested money for their wives in a new company which won the contract for the renovation of some public building. They would claim that they had so many investments, they didn't even know their wives had shares of this insignificant company. After all, they were so busy doing their duty in serving the state of New York, they didn't have time for such insignificant details.

Erik informed de Mer that the other men felt invincible when they sat in his office in the variety, this was the room providing most privacy. Since Jonathan "Smith" was officially one of Erik's bookkeepers no one wondered that they discussed something. Everyone knew that Erik had some project and this Mr. Smith was his bookkeeper exclusively for this one project, so of course they had much to discuss.

"They are a nice clique, aren't they?" Jonathan sighed, "Politicians, officials, a judge and two prosecutors - they think themselves invincible. That's why I came as special prosecutor. When they couldn't corrupt me, they send a hired killer."

"O no, tell me about that!" Erik mocked, "Must be terrible to be murdered!"

"I see you did not lose your humor, but next year will be critical. This year it is the bidding, you make an offer and they will vote for your offer. No prove that it is fraud and no real work will be done only some cheap covering up the worst. But the company will get paid as if the building was solid stone and steel, not wood and straw and clay. We need to prove that they knew, that they were inspecting the building site and saw that the work is not up to standard. So if they sign the papers that they saw everything and everything is as it should be we have the evidence we need."

"And if they claim the signature was forged?"

"I like your paranoid way. You would make a good prosecutor."

"Or a good criminal, but I guess, we need to have the same skills and talents..."

It was one of those moments they shared a good laugh together. They needed this, two men forced to work together and trust each other who had no reason at all to assume anything than betrayal and both knew they risked their lives in this. Jonathan de Mer acted out of the intention of taking down a criminal organisation, he did it for the pleasure of hunting down those who would otherwise escape justice. Erik saw his chance to get free from Bruno Riccy and his gang, a chance to become really an honest man because he wanted to be a good role model for his child. But that did not mean the two liked each other.

"Politicians are horribly peacocky," Erik mused, "Maybe they would accept some pictures to be taken on the building site?"

"With all the wood and clay and straw in the background? They would have to be idiotic to allow that."

"People are," Erik replied, "As a magician I can tell that people are blind and stupid as soon as you tell them exactly what they like to hear. You can always count on greed and vanity of men, always. You'd be surprised how easy it is to commit fraud because people want to believe in the lies..."

"Alright. We try that. We have an official photographer taking pictures and a second one doing the pictures from another angle to make sure the pictures show that there is not one stone or steal beam there but wood, straw and clay. Then they cannot say they didn't know!"

"Precisely. When they pose for the official photographer they will stand still long enough for the hidden one to take his pictures. I could... I could make something to conceal the second one." Erik felt much better now for he knew he would gain the upper hand. There was only one problem: The next year they would not only act on paper, he would really have to begin doing the fake renovation work. And then, when everything was ready and all officials had signed that everything was in perfect order and the money should be paid, then the prosecutor would have to arrest all members of the corruption circle in one night. They had agreed that Christmas would be perfect to do the arrest for everyone would be at home and no one on unavailable on business trip.

Erik himself had one year to prepare some safe place for himself and his family to hide that night, should anyone escape arrest and try to have him and his family killed. Erik wasn't sure he would survive that year, he already was a nervous wreck. At daytime he pretended to be calm and in perfect control of everything, but every night he suffered terrible nightmares and panic attacks which all revolved around the risk being found out and that someone would take revenge on him and his family. He would ask the tall doctor to help him, he couldn't risk taking anything that would dull his wits but he needed something to help him sleep or he wouldn't survive the year to come.

* * *

For Meg the situation wasn't better. She felt torn between her desire to dance at a real opera house again and participate in the wonderful ballet performances they staged and the wish to go back to her child. She knew that her mother was caring well for Tony, but it wasn't the same. She missed the child and worried so much, but the only way to stay in contact was to write letters to her mother and have her telling her about the child regularly. Meg was excited when she found pictures drawn by Tony on the backside of the letters.

Tony was under control now since Erik and Antoinette had agreed that they would force Tony to obey their orders through physical strength and a wooden cage and the leash. It was for the child's own protection, the toddler had the bad habit of suddenly running towards something he found interesting - that could be a knife, a bottle, a stage prop or a vicious dog. Everything. It could even be the sea - the child loved the sea but was only allowed to go there in the morning when Erik was with him to teach him to swim, but if it managed to escape it would just run into the water. Well, a child on a leash. That was something new and no one of the other people in the amusement park knew if this was part of some trick or illusion or just an attempt to draw attention to the park. It could as well be some fancy advertising saying "This park is so great you have to keep your children on a leash or they won't ever leave it."

Antoinette Giry hoped so much that Tony would overcome the defiant age as soon as possible for she noticed that Erik hadn't any patience left and would rise his hand against the toddler even when Tony didn't do anything bad but was just too loud and grating on Erik's nerves too much. Finally Erik decided he would move to his other room when he wasn't in the mood to deal with an overexcited child. And Tony was so easily overexcited, he could tell about something he found on the beach for hours, the same story again, again and again, in a high-pitched voice and constantly hopping around in his excitement. Erik had to leave before he would really hurt his child.

Meg knew this and was reassured that Erik would not harm the child, but she was worried nevertheless. What was going on there? Why was Erik being so paranoid? Did he know something of her friendship with David MacArthur?

Meg felt really guilty for allowing that man to actually court her, but she had no one else she could talk to now and she had to admit that after being more or less ignored by Erik for years and treated like a mere servant it felt so good to have an admirer who treated her like royalty. Of course she was determined never to actually betray Erik, but having dinner with MacArthur and his mother wasn't bad, was it?

Her dancing was getting better each day, she felt more self-assured and knew what she could do. She was happy to be offered a better position and even small solo parts after such a short time at the opera. Obviously she had not lost her skill as a dancer. She felt guilty, but she enjoyed the admiration she got from MacArthur. He was there at every performance, bringing her flowers, taking her home at night and having dinner with her - and his mother as chaperone, but soon Meg wondered if the old lady would actually realize that Meg wasn't one of her stepdaughters. The old lady was always polite and had a friendly character, but she was so confused and had no idea who was who.

When Meg lay in her bed at night, she thought about how different her life would be if she had never been with Erik. If she had not become pregnant, they would not have been forced to marry and she would be free now - free to be with David MacArthur. She felt guilty for these thoughts. How could a mother regret having a child? She loved Tony dearly and she did not regret having her. Him. Whatever. But without Erik and Tony, she could allow MacArthur to court her. She could be with him, maybe even become his wife, the wife of a rich man from a rich family. No more icy flat with walls so thin one could hear every word that was spoken in the other flats - even in other stories! No more worries if there was enough money to feed everyone, if there was enough money for the coals, the constant threat in the person of Bruno Riccy, the dark area of the park with the opium den, the second variety, the casino and the brothel.

There would be no need to live in a small flat with Erik who was non-considerate and seemed to believe that everyone else existed purely to serve him. She could accept that he was sometimes just overworked, but then, why did he make such high flying plans? It was his fault. Why wasn't he satisfied with the variety? Managing this would be challenging enough, but no, it had to be an amusement park. Why were Erik's dreams always larger than life and he couldn't accept that his strength was limited? He constantly demanded too much of himself. Why couldn't he stay on the safe side for once?

Meg wondered why Erik was still dreaming of Christine. Why? She had decided against him. He had wanted a wife, now he had one, but he ignored her most of the time except when he was barking orders at her or berating her for neglecting her duties. Sometimes she had a feeling that Erik treated everyone like he would treat a part of one of his automatons. Everyone had to function flawlessly every day, no one - except him, that is - was allowed to have needs, wishes, feelings of his own. Everyone was just a steel wheel in some automaton and if it didn't function flawlessly it would have to be replaced. But as long as it functioned, it would be completely ignored.

But for all his flaws, he didn't deserve that she was falling in love with another man. She berated herself for that thought, but that was what happened. Not that David MacArthur was a particularly interesting man or handsome, he was very very polite and he admired her and she was so starved for attention she couldn't resist accepting his, even if she knew it was wrong. But as long as she was just talking with David MacArthur and never allowing him more than kissing her hand, she could enjoy it without doing wrong. She was determined not to allow him anything more.

* * *

Meg had a hard time to get a day off but she wanted to be there at Tony's third birthday. She had bought a gift for him, a wooden horse and a wooden figure that could be a cowboy. Or maybe something else, it was just a man with a hat.

Her mother had informed her that Erik had planned a birthday party for Tony at the beach in the morning before the guests would arrive. So she had taken the earliest possible train and arrived at the pier breathlessly. There was Erik with Antoinette and Tony. Tony was excitedly playing with a ball, both Tony and the ball were tied to a leash to prevent them from falling in the sea. Tony loved the ball with the rope, he would spin it over his head and when it had enough momentum release it, hoping to hit his father. To Meg's surprise Erik endured his child's attacks with astonishing patience. If Tony would throw a leather ball at her, Meg wouldn't endure it that patiently.

"Look who's there!" Antoinette pointed to Meg, "Mummy is there!"

Tony stood stock still for a moment, then exclaimed: "Mama!" and ran to her, ripping his leash from his grandmother's hands.

"Antoinette! If you can't hold him, I'll have to as Attamamma to babysit again!" Erik snapped irritated, "Tony running uncontrolled is too high a risk!"

Meg picked Tony up in her arms, whirling around with him. "My baby! My lovely, big baby! I'm so happy to see you!"

"Mama, I love you so much!" Tony exclaimed, kissing her, unfortunately grabbing her hair in the process, pulling uncomfortably at it, but Meg ignored it. She put the child down and reached into her bag, presenting him the wooden toys. "Wow! Thank you! Daddy, look, I have my own horse!"

"Yes, wonderful," Erik's voice was distant, as if he was not really there. He watched Tony playing with the horse in the sand for a while, then turned to Meg: "I have to go now. Have fun with Tony, enjoy your day together. I'll take you to the train station in the evening."

It was a wonderful day. Tony seemed to be absolutely contend to play in the sand at the beach with his wooden horse. If he pressed the horse into the sand it could leave footprints, which fascinated the child. It was so happy that it even forgot that it didn't like to eat lunch. They had lunch in the varieties canteen where Tony was in the center of everyone's attention. Tony told everyone that he got a horse and was a cowboy. Squelch - who had been a cowboy once - was delighted and began telling stories, which Tony commented with: "I want to be a cowboy!"

Meg spend the afternoon with Tony in their flat, playing with the horse with him. Time flew and before she really knew what was happening her mother and Erik came back from the variety.

"Tony, you have to say good by to Mama," Antoinette announced, "Mama has to go or she misses her train."

"No! I'll blow up the railway then Mama has to stay!" Tony exclaimed and grabbed Meg's leg. Meg wondered what gave Tony such ideas like blowing up railways.

"You won't blow up anything!" Antoinette berated the child, "Now let her go. If you do not let her go she won't be able to come back."

"But why is Mama going away?"

"Tony, I am a ballerina at the opera. I have to dance."

"Dance here!" Tony retorted with his child's logic.

"Tony..." Meg was helpless, she felt like the worst mother of the world for doing this to her child.

"Mama has to dance at the opera," Erik told his child, prying his little arms from Meg's leg, "So many more people can admire her art. Dancing makes Mama happy and you want your Mama to be happy, don't you?"

"I want Mama here!"

Erik pushed the crying child in its grandmother's arms, grabbed Meg's arm and pulled her out of the flat. "You take care of Tony - and you come with me! Meg! You are as bad as him!"

Meg noticed that Erik was unusually tacitum as they walked side by side to the train station. Before they reached the platform, Erik pulled her into a niche in a quiet area of the train station were seldom travelers were.

"I do not want you to come back again!" he snapped.

"What? Erik..." Meg was shocked.

"Go to your Mr. David MacArthur! But if you ever dare set one foot on Coney Island again, I'll kill you." This was no idle threat, Meg knew that he was fully capable of killing her.

"Erik, it is not what you think..." she defended herself, she had not betrayed him, she had done nothing but speak with MacArthur.

"Not what I think?" he hissed, backhanding her and in the next moment his hands were at her throat but he did not strangle her, he just held her in his iron grip, "Not what I think? Let me guess: He's just a childhood friend of your's, isn't he? You were just being nostalgic talking to him? Why do you girls think me a fool, can't you come up with a better lie?"

"Erik, he does not matter..." Meg defended herself, trying in vain to free herself from his grasp.

"He does not matter? The **Vicomte de Chagny** does not matter?" he roared.

Meg's eyes went wide. "Erik, I am not Christine! Erik, I am Meg, can't you see that? Meg! He is not the Vicomte! This is completely different!" she screamed, fearing for her life now. His blazing eyes showed pure hatred and murderous rage. He would kill her, she knew that.

Erik let go of her, retreating to the shadows, his dark clothing helping him to melt with darkness. "I allowed you this one day with Tony. I want my son to know that his mother loves him. I won't kill you today, for our child's sake, but should you ever dare to return to Coney Island, I'll kill you."

"Let me say good by to Tony!"

"That was your good by. Go now and never return!"

Meg was left alone, shivering in terror. She knew Erik was capable of killing her, she knew he had been close to murdering Christine whom he loved - what would he do to her? Meg was crying when she entered the train and she was still crying when David MacArthur waited for her at the train platform with a bunch of flowers.

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 _Next chapter will be up on Friday!_

 _Please review. I hope my story does not grow boring to you?_


	47. Phoenix

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Phoenix**

It was a hard time for Meg. She was still dancing, but she could not enjoy it. She was scared what Erik might do, even if her mother send her letters to let her know that Erik had sworn not to kill her as long as she didn't attempt to come to Coney Island. Tony was well, but he missed his mother, unfortunately Erik had informed the child that Mama was already dead. Tony took that astonishing well, he thought Mama was an angel and then she would be there for him anyways. Meg didn't know what to make of this - should she go back? Her mother had warned her not to for Erik would kill her. They all knew what he was capable of in his jealousy. Meg wasn't happy to read in one letter that her mother was truly surprised she was still alive. Unfortunately her mother was on Erik's side in this and full of accusations against her daughter: How could she, when he was so very understanding to allow her to dance at the opera, cheat on him? How could she, when she knew what he has been through, betray him?

Meg didn't dare write back to defend herself, she did not know what Erik would do should he ever find out. Her mother's life was at risk if he found out that Antoinette Giry still wrote to her daughter to inform her of her child's well-being.

The child was growing rapidly and unfortunately this was taking a toll on its health. Erik had been teaching the child swimming again, with the result that it suffered summer cholera for days, obviously because Tony had swallowed seawater. Then he suffered earache and rhinitis. Antoinette Giry's letters became more and more short reports about Tony's health. Meg knew precisely what and how much her child ate, drank, what it did all day long, how terrible its temper tantrums were. Erik had left their flat and was sleeping alternately in the flat with Fleck, Gängelmann and Squelch or in his office or somewhere else, but Antoinette Giry didn't know. Meg thought it could only be the little shack beneath the pier.

The more depressed Meg was the more she depended on David MacArthur to comfort her and the more she accepted his caring. It was not right what she was doing, but she couldn't help herself - without him she would be all alone in this cold, cruel world - and the monster waited for her to kill her. In every dark shadow she thought she would see him, waiting for her with the dreaded Punjab Lasso. He had sworn not to kill her unless she dared coming home, but he was Erik who seldom kept his vows. Her husband, the monster.

And David MacArthur, who worshiped the ground she walked, who told her how much he admired her, that he wanted to lie at her feet each day and night. The contrast was too painful and the emptiness in her heart too great to resist temptation forever. It began so innocent, she called him David and allowed him to call her Meg. They were friends, just innocent friends, so why shouldn't they use each other's given name?

Unfortunately soon, far too soon, she found herself in his arms at a ball, dancing with him. He was a great dancer. Not that he was trained as ballet dancer, no, but for a ballroom dancer he was great. He showed her the world of the high society of New York and Meg couldn't help thinking what might have been possible had she not been so damned stupid to get involved with Erik. It was all his fault, Erik had ruined her life and she was paying the price for his crimes now.

It felt so right to be in MacArthur's arms, to accept his embrace and kiss, and more. Unlike Erik MacArthur knew what he was doing and how to make a woman happy. Erik had neither the knowledge nor did he really care. All of Erik's kisses and embraces felt somewhat awkward and he did it as if he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible while David cherished every moment.

And then Christmas came with the glorious gala at the opera that reminded her of Paris so much, the icy weather, the snowstorm in which David took her home and prepared a cup of tea for her because he didn't want to wake his mother and her maids. They sat in her room drinking tea with rum to get warmed up. It was after midnight, the time when they would be celebrating at the variety, when everyone would play with Tony... Meg broke down sobbing and David took her in his arms, holding her, caressing her and kissing her. She just let it happen.

They spend the next day together, going for a walk in the snow, having lunch at a fine restaurant. On their way back to the flat of Mrs MacArthur Meg asked: "David, if Erik decides to divorce me, I'd be free to be with you."

David stopped dead in his tracks. "What are you talking about?"

"You - me - together. What you dreamed of for months," Meg replied, feeling odd that he asked. He had told her that she was his goddess, that he couldn't live one day without her - surely he would be happy now?

He looked aside sadly. "I'm afraid I cannot divorce my wife. She is from a powerful family and my family depends on their goodwill..."

The world was spinning around her and she might have fainted had she not been so furious. He was married! He was a married man! "If you are married, why did you..." she asked, already feeling that she wouldn't like the answer.

"I love you Meg, pure and simple. I married my wife because our uncles decided we had to to strengthen the alliance of our families, but we do not love each other. We have two children though, with a third hopefully in the next months..." he confessed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Meg asked, feeling dirty like a whore. Not only had she betrayed her husband, no, her lover was a married man and father of three children!

He lowered his eyes in shame. "I thought... if I told you I'd lose you..."

"You want to... to keep me as... mistress?" she gasped, shaking her head in denial. This could not be true! This could not be!

"Of course. I love you." He looked in her eyes and she could see that his statement was true. He loved her. But he was married and unable - or unwilling - to legitimate their relationship. She could only be his mistress, living in sin for the rest of her life. What would this make her? A whore?

"If you loved me, you wouldn't humiliate me like this! I lost my family because of you!" Meg yelled.

"Shht! We are in the open! I don't want a scandal!" he cautioned her.

Meg turned round and ran.

"Hey! Wait!" David called out behind her. "I love you!"

"No!" she rounded on him furiously, "I am no man's mistress! No sir, certainly not! What would you do with me when you get tired of me? Cast me out on the street to bring your mother a new lady's companion? How many did you have before me?"

"You are being hysteric. I love you, Meg, why can't you accept that? We could be together, we could be happy, you could dance and I could be your patron..."

She stopped listening and ran. He didn't keep up with her and she assumed he did not even want to.

Meg sat at the train station to escape the coldness and the snow. She didn't know where to go now. She would certainly not go back to Mrs. MacArthur, not even to fetch her few belongings. She would not go back! Never! But where could she go now? She had some money put away in a bank account, but the bank was closed at this time. She had a little bit of money in her bag, but that wouldn't bring much. Now she realized that it had been a lie. All of his admiration had been a lie. David MacArthur had never loved her, he had just wanted her as an exotic mistress - maybe even boasted before his friends that he had a real Parisienne. And even if his love for her was real - her hopes for the future were a lie. She would never be more than a mistress to him and he could cast her out whenever he wanted to. There was no guarantee he wouldn't tire of her eventually.

Meg wondered if she would have gotten any job at the opera if MacArthur's uncle wasn't the manager. It had all been a lie, a beautiful, wonderful, glittering golden lie. She had lost her family, betrayed her husband for a lie. There was nowhere she could go now. No one she could turn to. No one.

She bought a ticket to Coney Island.

* * *

It was dangerous to walk through the closed amusement park. The only light came from the windows of the bar. She wondered who would spend the night in the bar? It was the only bar that had open 24 hours a day, but then, who would want to spend the night in a bar, even if it was a luxury bar? She sighed. Obviously people like her who were desperate and had nowhere else to go. People on the verge of suicide, for that was what she was doing. Only that she wouldn't commit suicide. She would wait at the pier until **HE** came and took her life. Would he be cruel or would he make it swift and painless?

She could almost feel him before she saw him. He was there, as she remembered him. Dark, black. He was dressed in black and wore a black cape. The white mask gleaming in the dim light of the stars that was reflected by the thick snow. Ice covered the sea.

"You came," he said, his voice like the low purr of a panther.

"Yes." She wasn't afraid. "Are you going to kill me now?" She stood there at the pier, walked to the edge - she would make it easy for him to throw her into the icy water. The ice would break and she would drown in her thick clothing despite her being a good swimmer. The snow rustled under his shoes. She could hear him behind her but didn't turn round. She didn't even want to see the lasso he surely readied in his hands now.

"Maybe," his reply was soft, so soft it surprised her.

"I betrayed you," she confessed, showing no emotion. She actually felt nothing, really nothing. Was it possible to feel nothing at all? She was going to die and felt nothing.

"I'm not proud of what I did in the last months either," he replied and she could feel his breath in her hair. He was only inches behind her and she knew what he was doing, he lifted his hands and she felt his leather gloves at her neck, not strangling but gently caressing her. His black cape would look like dark wings the way he raised his arms. "Why did you come back?"

"He's already married," she confessed, "I didn't know that."

"Ah, and so you remorsefully return to your husband, but I do not see you prostrating yourself at my feet begging for mercy?" He was toying with her. She knew that.

"You are killing me anyways. Just... make it quick, please. And don't let our child ever know." The thought of what it would do to their child to know that its father murdered its mother was unbearable. She felt his hands tremble at her neck, but he didn't stop caressing her.

One leather gloved hand rose to her cheek as he gently turned her face so she looked the same direction as he did. "You see the stars upon the icy sea? They are celebrating Christmas in France too. Christine wrote a letter to you, I kept it. She is well and they are expecting their third child." His voice was sad. "If love was a flower, my wife, what would you say it could be?"

She shuddered. She was there, already in the hands of her murderer and she was actually feeling everything but scared. "An opium poppy," she replied, "A powerful drug. Once you start with it you cannot stop, even if you know it would be better for you and everyone else. At first it seems to offer a bright future, but then all you get are empty dreams - but when you realize that, it is too late to turn away."

"I agree," he replied, his breath warm in her neck. He stood slightly hunched so his mouth was so very close to her neck.

"What do you want, Erik?" Meg asked, no longer wanting to be the mouse in this cat-and-mouse game.

"Come back to me," he whispered, "Tony misses you so much."

She couldn't believe what she heard. He wouldn't kill her? His rage was gone? "And you, Erik? What do you want?"

He sighed and began massaging her tense shoulders gently. "You, Meg. Come back to me. You are my opium poppy, I need to see you in the morning, helping Tony eating breakfast, I even missed your nagging when I come home stinking of smoke and alcohol." He let out a bitter chuckle. "Curious what one can actually **miss**." Another sigh. "I miss you. I miss sitting at breakfast with you and I miss the horrible weak coffee and the salty soup and the burnt stew!"

"I never thought you were the forgiving type." Meg wondered why she made such dry comments. Was she out of her mind and wanted him to kill her?

"I didn't say I'd forgive you. I said I want you back! You are mine!" His arms closed around her as he embraced her, pressing himself against her back. She felt the warmth of his cape as it fell around her, covering them both now against the coldness of the night. "I want you!" he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing against her ear ever so slightly. She shuddered, but certainly not of fear or coldness now. His embrace tightened around her.

* * *

Meg was woken by the delighted outburst of her child as Tony jumped onto her exclaiming: "Mama! Daddy brought Mama back! This is the best Christmas ever!"

Meg wasn't able to reply anything. The three year old child jumping onto her stomach had taken away her breath and she had trouble not fainting. Beside her Erik stirred sleepily. They were in his bed in his room in their family's flat.

That moment a highly agitated Antoinette Giry burst into their room, exclaiming: "Tony! You mustn't..." whatever she feared the child would see now or Erik might do now was wiped away by the sight of her daughter lying on the bed, Tony jumping up and down between his parents in his excitement, and some of their clothes were in a disarray on the floor of the tiny bedroom. "O," she whispered and clasped her hand before her mouth, "I'm sorry... I..." she turned bright red and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"I guess she won't do that again," Meg gasped, "Tony, would you... please stop kicking me!"

"Daddy, can we keep her now? Please?" Tony begged, "She can dance here, can't she? People can see her here, can't they? She mustn't go away again? Please?"

"Yes," Erik replied with a smile, "Your Mama belongs to us, we simply won't allow her to leave again!"

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 _Thank you for reading! Have a nice weekend!_


	48. Reconciliation

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Reconciliation**

Meg learned far too soon what she had missed on Coney Island. There had been nasty scenes with Erik because he hadn't been in control of his temper and far too often - especially when he had to go to New York - come back in such a black mood no one dared being seen by him or making any noise around him. He had hurt Tony, he had hurt Antoinette and finally moved out to keep them save from his outbursts he simply could not control.

Unfortunately he had turned to Suzie again. Meg learned that from the He-She. Erik had engaged in a fist-fight with two of the men Riccy had placed as security guards there, both notorious fighters, and Erik had beaten them so badly one lost an eye and the other had a fractured knee and would depend on a cane to walk for the rest of his life. Suzie had helped Erik clean his bloodied knuckles and given him tea with rum against the pain and to calm him down. Unfortunately Suzie's medicine against everything contained a certain amount of alcohol and far too often they had just sat together drinking, Erik wallowing in self-pity and Suzie listening and pitying him. As far as the rumors went, they might have had an affair, but of course no one knew for sure. But sitting with Suzie every evening, sharing up to four bottles of wine between the two of them certainly did no good to Erik.

Until Suzie suffered a heart attack. Too much weight and too much alcohol and too much stress having to deal with Erik's mood day by day. She survived because Erik had called the doctor immediately. The diagnosis was bitter: heart attack caused by years of alcohol addiction and too much weight. She had to go to a hospital because she wouldn't survive withdrawal at home. Meg learned that Erik was paying the bill for Suzie and she had been in hospital for four months now, they hoped she would be able to come back in May. Not as a Fat Woman, she had already lost much weight and would have to lose even more if she wanted to survive. She would come back as Benny's wife. They had married in what they thought to be a deathbed marriage.

Erik had hired a black maid to care for Benny now that Suzie was not there. Meg had to admit that she appreciated the way Erik cared for his employees, even if it cost him much. Money he didn't really have. The credits were mostly paid back - except what he owed to the Vicomte -, but otherwise he still struggled to pay the bills and the wages when they came due. Far too often his employees had to wait for their weekly wages three or four weeks and most suppliers only gave him anything on advance payment because he already owed them too much.

There was this project in the city no one knew anything about it and the ones who knew didn't say one word. The only knew project they knew about was that Erik enlarged the tunnel of horrors. It was a fun-ride now, the customers would sit alone - or maximum two together - in one of the little carts that ran on the railway. The tunnel worked automatically with electricity, much like the automatons in the Hall of Wonders, only that here everything was dark and designed to scare people.

Suzie's heart attack had scared Erik and he had - with some persuasion by Dr. Gängelmann - given up drinking again, but now he was smoking cigarettes or drinking some tea that tasted absolutely awful and had a calming effect. To everyone's worry Erik put a bit of Laudanum in his tea before going to bed, he took care to take only a few drops, but he used that "nightcap" at least three days a week. Not every night because he feared addiction, but three days a week wasn't a good sign.

And Meg learned to her dismay that Erik had had another affair, or at least everyone was talking about this. A woman had been caught stealing from the opium den and had begged him not to call the police but let her go, offering certain favors. Since Erik had been locked in his office with her for some time there were more than enough rumors he might have accepted her offer. And she wasn't the only one who offered her body in exchange for drugs.

Maybe the only two people who would not talk about the affairs at all were Erik and Meg. Both knew they had done wrong and they acted as if they could undo everything if they pretended it had never happened. Meg was afraid she might have gotten pregnant and wouldn't know who the father was, but she didn't dare tell anyone of her fears, especially not Erik who already had too many things to worry about.

Maybe it was her guilty conscience that helped Meg to try to please Erik and make his life easier. It began with preparing breakfast for him. Not that the coffee was better now - they just didn't have the money to buy more so she had to ration the coffee beans. She soon learned that Erik usually forgot to eat breakfast and her mother was already overchallenged getting Tony to eat, the child had inherited its father's unwillingness to eat breakfast for he wanted to start playing immediately. It was always hard to get Erik to get up in the morning so he was late anyways, so Tony pretended to be late as well.

Meg had never thought Erik would be unable to get going in the morning, but he was. Especially in winter. It is not pleasant to get out of the warm bed to an icy flat. And Erik considered every time before noon "early morning", so if they got up between 9 and 10 a.m. it was far too soon for Erik's tastes - and too late for Tony who would have preferred to get up before 8 a.m. and was now spending the morning in bed with his mother, playing with his grey socks as sock-puppet sharks to attack her nose. Meg hoped she could convince her child to use clean socks for this game, but unfortunately only unwashed socks seemed to fit Tony's imagination of sharks. Meg wasn't happy when Tony decided that his father's socks made even better sharks than his own! Every morning she woke with one of Erik's unwashed socks in her face. Just great.

The day Meg finally got her much awaited period she told Erik when he was sitting in his office, doing paperwork. He didn't even look up, just replied in an absolutely emotionless voice: "Pity. I'd love another child." Meg stood there open-mouthed in astonishment. Did he really say that? Had he really been ready to accept a child that might not be his and raise it as his own?

"But... there is a risk that it wasn't even yours?" She just had to know.

His voice was detached, business-like, a stark contradiction to his words: "It would be **your's**." She stared at him as he still was reading the numbers and figures on the paper before him. Was he really ready to raise a child that wasn't his because it was her's? Did this mean he loved her?

"What are you still doing here?" he snapped, "I have to work. Do you feel well enough to dance today, then go and report for duty."

The days were filled with the usually chaotic work on new shows, Erik going to the variety to write music for the shows, usually working together with Benny as librettist, the He-She as costume designer, Vincent the designer and Antoinette Giry the choreographer. And Tony, who was happy sitting in his wooden cage in the orchestra pit beside the piano playing either with his xylophone or drawing sketches. The room was icy with only a little heat from the cast-iron stove they had put up. Of course the stage and the auditorium could be heated, but coals were too expensive to waste them when no paying audience was there.

Within days everyone had a cold.

"We need another room for your composing!" Meg declared, "You falling ill every winter is no option!"

"By all means... which is the problem. We don't have the means to buy another piano," Erik sighed, "We don't even have enough coal to keep our flat warm, even the kitchen is... quite cold." Meg rolled her eyes at the pile of handkerchiefs beside his bed. He used them and let them fall to the floor, leaving it to her to pick them up, wash and iron them, and give them back in time before he would run out of handkerchiefs again.

"You could use the one in the bar?" Meg suggested, placing the dirty handkerchiefs in her basket.

"Compose in a bar? Are you stupid? Never!" Erik snapped and turned to Tony who had decided that if he had to spend the day in bed his father's bed was much more fun: "And you stop playing levers with my toes! My toes are no levers and I'm tired of making funny noises when you pull them!"

"Pleeeeeease one more time!" Tony whined and sneezed, using the fabric of his father's trousers to wipe his nose.

"Only once, then I want my socks back! I'm getting cold!"

Meg wondered if Erik was making up for what he missed in his own childhood playing with Tony. Right now Tony had decided that his father was a machine and the toes were the levers to control it with. They seemed to enjoy themselves - between coughs, sneezes and having to swallow soup and tea.

* * *

Soon Meg discovered that Erik was not really able to relax. He didn't get going in the morning, but once he was up he seemed unable to slow down and stop again. He reminded her of one of those heavy freight ships they sometimes saw on the sea - they wouldn't get going at first but once they were at full speed there was almost no way stopping or slowing down no matter how fast they were. The high speed of them could be really frightening. Erik could work extremely long in the evening - just because he wasn't able to slow down and relax, even when he was really tired and needed rest. Resting was difficult and he needed to be persuaded to do so or he would go on until he just collapsed - or decided he needed to "switch himself off" with something like laudanum.

But it did him good if she asked him to sit in the kitchen with her and have some tea - without alcohol or drugs - and warm up at the stove. He seemed to enjoy having her massaging his shoulders and back. He even began to send Antoinette to bring Tony to bed so he could be alone with Meg, having her serving him tea, massaging him. It really helped him to calm down and he really enjoyed her attentions and sometimes this lead to them sleeping in the same bed.

And it surely did result in Tony complaining why he wasn't allowed to sleep in Daddy's bed at night but Mama was, this was not fair. The three adults turned bright red with embarrassment as Tony complained loudly at breakfast. Loud enough that maybe everyone in the block of flats knew that the married couple were reconciled.

There was some change in Erik now that he had learned that his body wasn't as repulsive as he himself perceived it. Meg seemed so used to him she didn't react in the slightest to his deformity, only if she found new cuts and bruises or eczema on him she was upset, but even then she just began treating him and certainly not shying away in disgust. It was something Erik had never dreamed of, having a wife who not only endured her obligations when he insisted upon his rights but a wife who actually wanted him. He soon began to call Meg his poppy in certain situations. And she learned how to treat his skin irritation. The twisted folds of skin and muscle on his right site - not only the face, but the body too - needed to be cleaned carefully and she had to rub lotion in them. Erik had never cared for himself much so he couldn't remember a time when he had been free of eczema and open wounds on his right side, but now that Meg cared for him his skin irritation got much better, the open lesions healing and the itching becoming less. Of course she could not make the disfigurement going away but without the eczema and the lesions he looked much better. Not that he would ever go without his mask that more or less had become his trademark by now anyways.

He even created a magic show for them. The show would take place in an Arabian country and was about a beautiful dancer who refused a dark magicians advances so he burned her. But she was reborn like a phoenix, more beautiful and a better dancer than ever.

"Why can't she marry the magician in the end?" Tony asked as they discussed the plot for the show in the team, the child sitting at its father's knees.

"Because he is a **dark** magician. The bad guy never gets the girl," Benny replied.

"Why?" Tony didn't understand.

"Well, killing someone is not really nice..." Erik made an attempt to explain, "If someone tried to murder you, would you love him for that?"

Tony thought about it. He didn't really have a concept of murder now, killing was just a funny game to him that time and he didn't know that someone who was dead would never come back to life, especially after he had been told his mother had died and then she came back. "But I love you, Daddy, even when you strike me," he argued, "Where's the difference?"

"I guess we have to rework the whole show," Erik sighed, "Okay, Tony, how would you like this: The magician is very sorry for what he did and he reviews the girl. He apologizes and turns to leave but she recognizes that he is in love with her and gives him a chance."

"Love stories are boooooooring!" Tony complained, "Can't you do something about heroes and conquests?"

"This is a variety, Tony, and we want a fairy tale and no heroic epic," Erik explained.

"Awwww. Boooooooring!"

"Okay, what would you do?"

"Shark..."

Everybody in the room burst into laughter. Tony loved sharks. If he had any choice he would love to be a shark himself. Erik was busy to prevent the child from taking off his shoes and socks to use the socks as sock puppets.

"Well... maybe an aerialist stunt about mermaids escaping a hungry shark?" Erik suggested, already planning an automated shark puppet that could be moved like a puppet on strings. It would be possible to do that with the right light - with the electric lights it certainly would be possible! - and the right decoration.

"And shark poopoo!" Tony beamed with pride.

"No. No poopoo. And that's final!" Erik decided.

Everyone else was trying in vain to hide their grin. The child had its father in the palm of its tiny hand.

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 _They are slowly finding back to their own crazy normality. At least the family is together again. And Tony is truly his father's child with his creative ideas, not that everyone would like his little games... But thats how children are. ;-)_


	49. Going Through Fire and Water

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Going Through Fire and Water**

Winter had only been a brief respite for Erik. Spring came and with it not only the stress of the new season, the shows, the new automatons - some of them malfunctioned - and the hordes of customers who fell in like desert locusts. Of course they were paying customers, but Erik still didn't like them. Right now he would have preferred to be left alone.

And then there was the scheme of the special prosecutor Jonathan de Mer to take down Riccy and his friends. And this was really trying, because now was the critical phase. They were actually working at the building site and had to have the right men there to take pictures so they could prove later that they must have seen that they weren't building in stone and steel but wood and clay. And all the time Erik had to please the politicians and officials and keep Riccy happy. It was a constant danger, even the tiniest mistake would kill him, but he had to suppress his tension and not let it show anyways. He had to pretend to be happy with their plan of swindling the state of New York of much money.

Now that he was with them, they had some "business meetings" - most of them ended up in the brothel. Erik had to be there to make sure they wouldn't mistrust him, but he usually had Squelch with him who far too often had to carry him home when he was too drunk to stand on his feet. It was a curse to have to drink with them and watch the adult shows in the second variety before going to the brothel. Getting drunk helped enduring to be in the company of drunk men behaving absolutely worthless.

The plan worked, but Erik was not fit to endure the pressure. He was able to function well enough to do his work, to do magic shows, to let himself be seen in the park for he knew his customers loved to see him eventually. He could go to New York and he could be there at the building site to give orders and observe the progress. As long as he was working - and he considered constantly acting the assigned role as working - he felt like he could switch off his feelings. But when he was not working, every time he was alone, he succumbed to panic attacks. Sometimes he just felt unbearable fear in him, but soon these attacks became worse, he would tremble, sweat, sometimes he even had the runs or would be sick.

At first Dr. Gängelmann suspected him of suffering withdrawal for the symptoms were quite similar: trembling, cold sweat, pain, vomiting... Even Erik wondered if he could have become addicted to something, but then, he had known the risk and had held back. Of course there had been binges with his new "business associates" - in his brothel and he would have to pay the costs - but he had made sure to stay away from anything that could cause addiction for at least a week after each of them. Finally the doctor realized that the problem was something completely different. It was panic attacks. Of course, no withdrawal would be over after just a three or four hours, it would last for days.

Jonathan de Mer soon realized that they had to do something or Erik would break and ruin their whole scheme. He decided to talk to Erik's wife.

"A, Mr. Smith," Meg greeted him as he approached her when she was walking with Tony on his leash at the beach. Tony was playing with the ball, which was tied to a rope. Meg had the leash in one hand, the rope in the other. So she could control both Tony - keep him from running into the water - and the ball - keep it from being thrown at customers for the child had a good aim. "Leaving the books to dust today?"

"Mrs. Y. May I accompany you for a while?"

"Of course. But don't complain if... Tony!" Tony was already tying Mr. Smith's legs together with the rope and the ball.

Mr. Smith - Jonathan de Mer - looked around and found they were alone since it was early morning. "Mrs. Y, I have to talk to you about... your husband."

"Yes?" Meg asked, fearing the worst. The bookkeeper would soon inform her that they ran out of money.

"He is suffering terrible anxiety attacks and with his known drug-proneness I'm afraid he might be in trouble soon," Jonathan informed her, "Please, Mrs. Y, take care of him."

"He's... what?" Somehow panic attacks didn't sound like Erik who was known for his fury, anger, always intimidating others but not panicking himself.

"You understood me. Just... talk to him. He has to do something about it or he, you, your son, me - everyone is in danger."

"Thank you for the warning, Mr. Smith," Meg replied, slightly trembling. Hopefully Erik was still asleep, he had come home very late and Meg had decided to go for a walk with Tony so Erik could sleep a few more hours.

Meg went home to find her mother bustling around in the kitchen preparing breakfast. "Is Erik already up?" Meg asked.

"I don't think so," her mother replied, "It is not even 11 a.m. and he came home after 6 a.m."

That moment they heard Tony yell "Shark attack!" and Erik groan: "Not again!"

Meg rushed to Erik's bedroom to find Tony sitting happily on Erik's bed, the child had put on the mask and the wig - both by far too large for him - and one of Erik's socks as a sock puppet. In the other hand Tony had - the lasso!

"Not again shark attack!" Erik groaned, "Why can't I sleep for one moment here? Do you want to kill me?"

"No! I'm like my Daddy! I kill everyone who threatens you!" Tony boasted happily, whirling the lasso in the air.

"Why would you want to kill anyone?" Erik asked, sitting up and taking the rope from Tony's hands before the child could hurt anyone or smash the window. Glass windows were expensive and Erik wasn't sure he could replace a broken window immediately.

"There was a man at the beach threatening Mama," Tony informed Erik.

"What? Who dared to threaten your Mama?" Erik was on his feet in no time, snatching the mask from Tony and getting dressed in a hurry, which meant, he had only one sock - the other sock was still serving as "shark".

"No one threatened me, Erik, calm down," Meg answered and tried to get the sock back, causing Tony to squeak as if someone was slaughtering him. Sometimes she wondered what the others thought they did to their child if Tony was regularly crying, yelling and squeaking like that.

"Nooooo! My shark!"

"This is no shark, this is Daddy's sock and he needs it now. Give it back!"

"No! Ouch! Mama, no, Mama, you're hurting me! Waaaaaaah!"

"Stop crying immediately!" Erik backhanded the child. Meg noticed that Erik was in full control and it was just a slight slap so she decided not to interfere. He was right, they mustn't allow Tony to blackmail them with his temper tantrums and crying. "Men don't cry. Have you forgotten?"

To Meg's surprise Tony just shut off his tears and handed back the sock with a forced grin. "Doesn't hurt!" he claimed, forcing back tears.

That moment they heard Antoinette muttering a curse word in the kitchen. They could smell it - she had tried to make them an American breakfast with ham and eggs and obviously burnt something. The usual chaotic morning.

When they left Tony in his grandmother's care and walked to the variety together, Meg told Erik that the bookkeeper Mr. Smith had warned her about his panic attacks. Erik lead her to his office and locked the door before he took place behind his messy desk - was there really a desk under the pile of papers? - and leaned back. Meg sniffed. She disliked the stench of cold smoke that lingered in his office as always. "What did this snake want?" he demanded.

"Mr. Smith is worried about you. He said you are suffering panic attacks and that we are all in danger if you take drugs."

"I'll kill him! How dare he humiliate me like this!"

"He's worried, Erik, nothing else!" Meg tried to reason with him, "Erik, please, I want to help you, I really want to help you, but you have to tell me what I can do! I am so very worried about you!"

He studied her for an uncomfortably long time before he nodded and looked away. "I guess I can tell you - if you betray me in this, it will cost our lives, and Tony's as well, so I don't think you'd be stupid enough to do it."

"You don't trust me?"

"How could I?" he stated matter of factly, "You ran away with the first man who showed a little interest in you. How could I trust you now?"

"It wasn't like this..."

He held up a had to silence her. "I told you I won't forgive that. As you won't forgive what I have done, I'm sure. Yes, it is true, I betrayed you with Suzie, with Tilly and with two drug addicted whores whose name I don't even know. And I am neither ashamed nor sorry for that."

Meg felt as if he had just slapped her, she gulped and tried not to let him see the tears she could barely hold back.

"I am certainly not sorry, I will not apologize and I will not forgive your betrayal. You are mine and I want to keep you, don't worry. You... improved greatly. I like that."

He was talking like their wedded life was just another show and after failing horribly he seemed to be satisfied with her current progress. Like she was a horse he had now finally been able to break properly. She didn't say anything, didn't know what to say. She had been so happy, had thought they finally had found happiness together and now this.

He took off his mask, revealing his deformity. It didn't bother her, she was used to his face. "So. Let's face the ugly truth. Maybe we were never meant to be together but we have a child. This child needs us and we have to stay together for Tony's sake. I have to admit that in the last months I got the impression you loved me, or was it just your guilty conscience? Never mind, I like your progress and I think we have a chance to find our place in this damned world. If we survive this year." Now he was getting down to it.

"Jonathan Smith is in truth a special prosecutor and I'm working with him to lay a trap for Bruno Riccy and his mighty friends - politicians, judges, officials," Erik stated, carefully studying Meg now, "If anyone learns of this scheme, Bruno is guaranteed to kill me, you, Tony and everyone else he thinks I might have liked. So. Maybe you understand now why I am so anxious, why I said we are at war and Tony needs to obey each and every command immediately because it is a matter of life and death?"

Meg sank down on the settee, accidentally sitting on a pencil. She shifted uncomfortably and removed the pencil. "I... I didn't know..." she whispered.

"I have to protect you, but you make it quite difficult for me to do that," he sighed, "So. You won't talk to anyone about this. No one is to be trusted. There are others who know but I won't tell you who they are because if anyone of you is kidnapped and tortured you cannot reveal what you do not know."

"Erik, you are scaring me..."

"Your mother must not know. She's growing far too independent lately, thinking herself my equal. She must not know. Nothing."

"But..."

"No but! Tell your mother and I have to kill you both to keep Tony safe! Tony is my first priority, you know what this means." There was no question about that. She nodded, what else could she do? "If you want to help me, get Tony under control!" he sighed, "And sometimes I... I..." he gestured and looked aside in shame. "Sometimes I need help," he finally confessed, "Sometimes I cannot suppress the knowledge of what would happen if the tiniest mistake happens..." he shuddered. To Meg it was a terrible sight to see Erik shudder in horror at the thought. "But I cannot go back now. If I could, I'd gladly do so. Right now there is only going on and yes, you are right, I'd love to take something that just takes the terror away, something that makes me strong and unfeeling to any fear."

Meg go up and went to him, kneeling down at his side, embracing him. She finally understood that his harsh words came from pure despair, that he was not being cruel because he wanted to but because he tried to fend off his own fears. It was close to impossible to him to admit weakness and here he was, telling her that he could not do this alone, that is was his own feelings that betrayed him, his own fears. "O Erik, you are not alone in this. I'm here, at your side, and I will help you. Whatever I can do."

"I will need your help," he stated and suddenly looked so very old and tired, "There are things you can do better than I do. Like distracting men when I need to do something before everyone's eyes but unseen nevertheless. And sometimes I... will not be myself. I will need your help then to recover in time to... do what I will have to do. And I need you to obey each command immediately without any questions for every split-second delay might cost some lives."

"I accept!"

* * *

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 _I'll cut the current part in three chapters for when I wrote it I was so captured that I didn't realize just how long it was!_

 _Next chapter will be up on Friday._


	50. Going Through Fire and Water (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Going Through Fire and Water (cont.)**

If Meg had thought it would get better now, she was deeply disappointed. Instead of better it became worse - it was the critical phase where Erik had to persuade the officials and politicians to pose for pictures on the building site. He decided to play the game as he had planned it with de Mer. They had an official photographer there and there would be some random newspaper article about the city doing something for the people, even the poor. It didn't really matter but it would of course be nice for the politicians to be named as benefactors.

Meg was there with a second camera, Erik explained that his wife had a new hobby, she was taking pictures. Unfortunately she seemed to invent a new art: abstract photography. The other men laughed at his wink and had no objections to Meg wandering around and taking pictures. They even offered to help her and when Meg - with Erik's consent - flirted with them they allowed her to take pictures of them from different angles.

Erik was surprised what Meg's smile could do. She was scurrying around on the building site taking pictures and flirting shamelessly with the politicians and the officials. If Erik hadn't told her to do so before he would have killed her then and there and buried her under the next wall he would erect. So it was the show of his life to him and he marveled at how she could manipulate these men with her smile and her unusually childish behavior. She was good, extremely good, in making men forgetting all their caution.

Erik kept in the background, pretending to be busy discussing something with the foreman and not seeing anything. Fortunately none of the men from the upper classes wanted to endure the heat of this sunny summer day so they decided to move on to some more decent location, having seen everything. They sat together in a nice restaurant and Erik had to get the second task of this day done - getting their signature that they had inspected the building site and everything was as it should be. As if he was really building with steel and stone and not only wood, straw, clay and plaster. Since it was just a renovation and not a completely new building no damage would be done - the false work could be taken away any time and be replaced by the real thing.

They sat in the elegant restaurant together and Erik was relieved to find that Meg was very good in flirting and entertaining these men, a talent he unfortunately lacked. As much as he could entertain people in a show, polite conversation was nothing he liked and nothing he could do very well. But so they were chatting, drinking and eating - at his expense, he could only hope de Mer would recompense him for these costs - and he was sweating, not so much because of the heat but because he was afraid Meg would say something she shouldn't say, but he had to admit she was perfect. She was acting the role of the excited naive dancing girl who loved to meet these mighty men and she even managed to feign admiration for them.

And what they told her now - it was astonishing! Erik was completely forgotten, they signed without even reading the papers while boasting how they had done, presenting themselves as cunning businessmen and mighty politicians. Their boasting would be their downfall. Erik would inform de Mer that they ought to investigate the tax fraud too, the more evidence the better.

"Aren't you jealous?" one of the men asked Erik who sat by as if he wouldn't notice his wife was flirting with other men.

Erik shrugged. "Better to have 20% of a good deal than 100% of a bad one... I knew what I was getting when I married a variety dancer." They laughed and Meg pretended to be so very fascinated by one man boasting about his political career that she didn't see or hear anything else. Erik was on tenterhooks all the time, dreading Meg or he would make some mistake and at the same time he had to act as if he was relaxed and happy because everything went so very well.

It wasn't long until the other men left and Erik and Meg could finally leave the restaurant - of course after settling the bill. Both of them gasped in relief as they were in the street again.

"How was I?" Meg asked, her voice trembling and the color draining from her face. She looked like she might be sick any moment now.

"Perfect," Erik replied his voice shaking, "I think they fell for it." He checked for the umpteenth time if he had the papers in his bag and Meg's camera was in the large suitcase. "Can you stand? You don't look well."

"I was about to ask you the same question," Meg replied, "I was so scared, I might have soiled myself without even noticing."

"Me too." They laughed together, not out of happiness but out of relief that they had survived that without any grave lapse that might give away the scheme.

It was a long way back to Coney Island, but this time it was much easier for they did not have to take the train. Erik had a carriage now, second-hand and certainly not one of the elegant ones - just an old cab, a one horse carriage, and it was clearly worn down. The horse was a small mixed breed horse, a brown-white pinto mare that looked like she could as well be a pony. She was slow and old and not easy to handle for the former owner had ruined her more or less, pulling far too strong on the reins and using the whip too often. Erik could steer her through the traffic, which was rather chaotic. Carriages drawn by one or two horses, sometimes even larger ones, carts drawn by heavy cold-blooded horses, public carriages drawn by equally strong cart horses, riders on various kinds of horses and mules, mules and donkeys carrying heavy loads, between them paperboys trying to sell the papers, street-vendors, masses of pedestrians, the streets covered with dirt, horse droppings and other filth. Some cars heightening the chaos for they tended to spook horses eventually. A stallion met a mare on heat and there was no holding back - fortunately the man who had been riding the mare got off her back in time before he would have been crushed under the stallion's weight.

No one seemed to notice Erik's mask as he sat there steering the small carriage through the chaos. Meg wondered if he was really steering the horse or if the horse knew its way back to its stable alone. They were both silent, the noise around them was bad enough. When they were close to the elevated railway Meg was afraid the horse might be spooked by the train and the noise, but Erik laughed it off. "She's 24 years old and has lived as cart horse in New York all her life - do you really think a train would spook her?"

They reached Coney Island drenched in sweat and covered with dust. Meg left the carriage with her knees wobbly and stood aside as Erik untied the horse and brought the mare to her box. Meg peered into the stables with interest. There were mostly the ponies for the Princess Hall, most boxes were empty for Erik could not afford more horses than absolutely necessary. Erik went to the faucet to fetch water for the mare but he was so exhausted the bucket slipped from his hand before he made it to the box. With a very rude curse on his lips he filled it again and finally placed the bucket before the horse to let it drink. It drank three buckets. Erik sat there in the pathway between the boxes, not caring that he was getting his clothing dirtier than it already was. "Do you even realize how close to death we were today?" he asked, his hands trembling.

Meg knelt beside him and gently rubbed his back as the trembling became worse. "You did very well," she said.

"I hope so," came de Mer's voice from the entrance, he immediately saw the suitcase in the carriage and took it, "I'll take this, if you allow me."

"The pictures... you need to..." Erik began, struggling not to throw up now, "...develop..."

"I know what I have to do," de Mer snapped irritated, "Did you drink again? Mr. Y, do you even realize what danger you are in? You cannot just go about enjoying yourself and drinking - one tiny slip and we are dead and buried and I mean this quite literally deadly serious!"

"I do not think you have to tell **him** , of all people!" Meg rounded on him furiously, "Can't you see that he understands more than you do? You are off very well, he is the one risking his life, my life, our child's life!" She stood before de Mer and glared up at him. "If only one hair at my son's head is harmed, I'll kill you myself."

Erik, who had gotten up again, lay his hand on her shoulder. "He's not the enemy. Come, we both need to wash and... do you think you could eat something? I can't right now. But a nice cup of ginger tea and then maybe something small..."

When they sat in the canteen of the variety nibbling at morsels that were left over from previous shows - which didn't include Erik or Meg of course - Meg sighed: "I could use a brandy now."

"How un-ladylike of you," Erik commended dryly, "No, ma'am. We have a show together tonight, remember? And for every drink you have today I'll take two." Meg shook her head slightly, knowing he would go through with this.

That day Meg's performance was bad, really bad. She just couldn't concentrate on the show and wondered how Erik managed to perform flawlessly, acting as if his magic tricks were fun, entertaining the audience and even making very polite remarks when a lady came too late to her table in the audience, winning the hearts of the audience. Especially women seemed attracted to the mysterious masked magician - they could not know, of course, that the mask was not just a fancy accessory but a necessity due to his deformity.

After the show Meg went to the bathroom for the women. The former dormitories had been turned into dressingrooms, as had the men's and the freak's. Well, not really dressing rooms, it was still just one room but Meg's corner was separated from the other's with curtains, providing at least the illusion of privacy and privilege. When she was finished washing and dressing she left, surprised to find Erik waiting for her at the side-entrance door.

"I thought you have to work?" she asked. It had not been the last show, the last would be the aerealistic stunts and usually Erik stayed to do paperwork until late at night.

"I wanted to make sure you come home without stopping at a bar," he replied as if she was a drunkard. Truth was, he didn't trust himself right now. "And I prefer your burnt stew to the noodles the canteen is serving today."

When they walked home, she said softly as she took his hand: "I understand why you need some relief so badly. But Mr. Smith is right - the risk is too high."

"Exactly my words, Poppy," he replied with a sly grin, "Fortunately for me there is one recreational drug that does not dull my wits..."

* * *

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 _to be continued (on Monday)..._

 _Have a nice weekend and please review!_


	51. Going Through Fire and Water (cont)2

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Going Through Fire and Water (cont.)**

De Mer was unhappy to learn that Erik now had begun to gather the papers with the aid of his wife. "A woman? Mr. Y, your wife is a great dancer, but she's no detective!"

"Neither am I," Erik replied, as they stood in his office over the papers and the pictures, "And you use me as a spy."

"You volunteered. Our bargain is that you gain full citizenship plus immunity from prosecution for all your past crimes," de Mer replied, "And right now it seems the evidence is good enough even if I know you have been one of Riccy's enforcers."

Erik bit his lip to prevent himself from saying anything, unsure if he would accidentally reveal another crime. His whole life had been a series of crime that would be enough for ten death sentences. Maybe more. He wouldn't know, he was no lawyer, but maybe he would ask one - after this was over and he had every paper that would make him a free citizen of the United States of America. Erik sighed and looked aside. "You know the danger," he said.

"After you 'killed' me? I was well aware of that before I accepted that job," Jonathan de Mer replied, "Unlike you, I have no family."

A sad smile crossed Erik's lips briefly as he turned away so the other man could only see his masked side. "I do it for them. I have to risk their lives to win them a chance to live. My existence does not count at all."

"You told me you did it for your son," de Mer replied, "Which is why I accepted your deal instead of telling you to go to hell. You see, I cannot risk taking down Bruno Riccy only to replace him with another ruthless criminal."

Erik flinched. This had been his original plan he had abandoned. He kept silent. "I want my son to be proud of me one day... and not to turn away in horror from the monster that is his father," he whispered softly, trying to contain the trembling that threatened to shake his body suddenly. He wouldn't cry before the prosecutor, he wouldn't!

De Mer had heard, but he knew better than to let it on. He just picked up the papers and the pictures - most of them had been useless but there were five really good pictures that showed the right man with the right background - and left. Now they would have to wait for the false invoices and the officials and politicians signing the papers that the money could be paid. Before that no politician or official had done anything bad.

The prosecutor sighed. The money would have to be paid to Erik who would "dutifully" share it with Riccy who would hand over the shares of the profit to his backers. After that someone would accuse everyone of fraud and they would watch what the corrupt prosecutors and judges would react. If they started an investigation, they would be informed of the scheme. If they tried to cover everything up, there would be evidence against them as well. De Mer was absolutely sure they would act as they always did: cover everything up for Bruno Riccy. And if something went wrong and the building eventually collapsed in the next decade, well then, the only one who would get the blame would be Erik. Bruno Riccy loved to make someone his right hand man, get the most out of him and then let him take the blame and send him to jail. Not one of Riccy's previous scapegoats had uttered one word against Riccy because they were all afraid of Riccy's revenge on their children.

* * *

It was early summer when Suzie returned to Coney Island. She was barely recognizeable, she had lost half of her previous weight in a little less than one year. Of course she was still fat with about 100 kilogram, but that was about half her previous weight. She was quite pale and unusually shy. Never had she been shy, but now she was.

She first wanted to see her husband Benny who was currently sitting in his wheelchair being pushed around by his maid. "I'll take over now," Suzie stated and kissed him on the cheek, "he's my husband now."

"Suzie?" Benny hadn't recognized her, "You... wow. You... look so different."

It didn't take long until Erik was informed and rushed to greet her. "Welcome back," he greeted her, "I guess I need to find a new job for you now? You are far too slim!"

"Thank you," she replied, "Thank you. You safed my life. I can never repay this kindness!"

"Ah, don't worry," he waved a hand indicating it was nothing, "Just... stay here. Benny needs an assistant and I need Benny as writer for the shows." He didn't tell her that he had no idea how he would be able to pay the bill for months in hospital. She had needed treatment after the heart attack, alcohol withdrawal and she had lost about 100 kilogram, which was a lot, in only a few months. Well, maybe not so very few months, close to a year woud be the better term. She would have to lose more weight in the future and she would have to stay sober.

"I'm so sorry, Erik," Suzie whispered, clinging to his arm desperately, "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you what?" He was really confused what she was apologizing for. Had she done something he didn't know? Or was it about the money? She had given him everything she had when he had been in desperate need of help, he just had to sign the guarantee to the hospital that he would pay her bill should she fail to pay the installments. He would never forgive himself if she had died just because he refused to pay her bill after he had taken all of her money.

"No, Erik, I mean... you remember when you suffered stage fright? I... gave you wine. I'm so sorry," she replied, almost desperately, "Please tell me you can forgive me. I'll help you, if you need it, but... please forgive me."

He laughed it off. "I have no idea what you are referring to. I'm fine. I'm not like you Suzie, I know when to stop. There is no need to worry."

She shook her head, biting her lip and gently caressed his arm. "You are a better man than you give yourself credit for. If you ever need help, I'll be there for you."

"Suzie, you have your husband Benny to care for - just... just leave me in peace!" He was annoyed that Suzie thought he might be an alcoholic like she was. But he wasn't, he knew that there was a certain risk, but he was much stronger than her, he could control himself. Forewarned is forearmed.

* * *

At the end of August the renovation was done and Erik had to go to the official final technical revision. He was nervous despite knowing that the officials and the experts were members of the corruption circle. But what if this plan didn't work? What if they - or one of them - wasn't corrupt? Would deMer come to his rescue or would he be the scapegoat for everyone?

It turned out that there had been no need to be afraid. The officials didn't even touch the walls so they could not know, one of the two experts was so drunk he didn't make it out of his carriage and the other one was obviously bribed and overlooked everything. It wasn't hard to overlook, Erik had done good work masking the flaws. If one would just take a look and not touch the walls, tap them or try to nail something to them, it was barely possible to see the difference. But the first touch would reveal it to those who knew what to look for, of course.

Erik handed them the papers they had to sign so he could send the invoice to the city. They did sign, one even complimented him that it "really looks very good" and winked. Erik smiled, not knowing if this was the right reaction, but he couldn't really think of anything else.

Only when Erik came back to his office and handed the papers to de Mer so he could control them, de Mer scolded him for he had forgotten one signature. Of course, the expert who had been in the carriage! He had completely forgotten to get his signature! Erik felt like banging his head against the doorframe for his stupidity. These were exactly the lapses that should not occur because they might cause the whole scheme to fail.

De Mer sighed. "Go and visit the expert at his home, telling him he forgot to sign and you cannot send the invoice unless he signs," he advised, "But do not go now. If he was so drunk he couldn't leave the carriage this morning, I don't think he can write by now."

Erik sank down on his chair, massaging his temples. "I'll do that right away tomorrow. Um... no... wait, tomorrow I can't, tomorrow is the magic show the first and I have to repair the mechanic wolf in the Hall of Wonders and the mechanic horse racing malfunctions again... The day after..." He had to look it up in his notebook. His schedule was too tight, he didn't have the time to go to New York! Seeking out the expert would take hours. He would need hours, even if he took the train, which he disliked for there were so many people and even if they were friendly and treated him with much respect or showed great affection to him as the masked magician he preferred to avoid the masses. With the carriage it would take hours, then he would have to find the man and try to get his signature. He had to calculate that he would not be back in time for any show for he didn't know how long he would have to wait to get a chance to talk to that man. The only chance was to go very early in the morning, maybe this was better anyways because in the morning that man might be sober.

Erik decided he would need something to survive the next days he would have to go without any sleep at all for he was sure he wouldn't be able to fall asleep when he knew he had to get up only few hours later to have a rather difficult time before him. One headache pill. Just one, to keep him on his feet and going. To ease the pressure.

"You look ill," de Mer said, "You are so very pale... you really ought to see the doctor."

"The doctor is currently on stage as conférencier," Erik replied, "I'm not ill, just a bit... tired. Leave me alone now!"

De Mer closed the door behind him and Erik went through his drawers, only to remember that he didn't have any pills left. He had thrown them away himself. Unfortunately. The next time he would keep some stack for emergency only. With a groan he lay down on the dusty couch, not caring that he was lying on some of the sketches the He-She had given him. He wouldn't discuss the costumes anyways but allow the He-She to do whatever he/she wanted. He just didn't have the time to deal with these problems, so he just didn't have any choice but leaving the details to his friends.

He must have fallen asleep for he was startled when someone knocked. "Go away!" he groaned.

The door opened nevertheless, it was Dr. Gängelmann in his ridiculous stage costume he wore as master of ceremony, the one with the golden tassels. Ridiculous.

"I said go away!" Erik snapped and sat up.

"Mr. Smith called me because you had headache. Here, have a nice hot cup of willow bark tea with lemon."

"Willow bark with lemon? Bah! Do you want to kill me?" The taste of that tea was just awful, the lemon made it even worse.

"It helps your headache," Johann said and put the cup down on one of the paper-covered tables before sitting down next to Erik on the couch, taking in the walls. "You have been a bit bad-tempered lately..." he observed. It wasn't hard to get the picture: the walls and even the ceiling had many new strains and damages from things thrown against them. Erik didn't reply, he just stared at the floor. On the desk, the couch-table and the floor were papers. He should do some work, but right now he could not bring himself to do anything. Johann studied him carefully, before pushing the cup in his hands. "Drink this and then you go to bed! Doctor's order!"

Erik glared at him. "And who is to do my work? Who is to go to find that... I've forgotten his name..."

"Erik. Erik! Look at me! Look at me! So. Much better. You cannot risk a relapse in addiction. Not now. I understand why you do this, why you work with the authorities to get rid of the Boss, but Erik, if you suffer a relapse, you will become reckless - and you know what happens then. People die. And this time it might be your family. Do you want to risk that?"

Erik shrugged him off annoyed. "Stop mothering me!"

"I'm just 'doctoring' you," Johann replied with an amused smile.

Erik had to laugh at this quip and gave in with a weary sigh. He managed to drink the tea before handing back the cup. "Okay. Then you go to Mr. What's-his-name and get his signature. I suggest you go there with a bottle of wine because if he's sober he's shaking so hard he won't sign anything."

"Very well. I'll tell Benny to get ready to be the master of ceremony tomorrow."

Erik stared at the tall doctor. Was it really that easy? Just ask and let him do this? "If you do this, you are in danger yourself..." Erik cautioned him.

"O please, I'm just the freak Giant Joe running an error for my master. I have no idea what's in that paper, I just have to get the signature of the most honorable distinguished expert," Joe laughed, "No one knows I'm a medical doctor. Most people think I'm just another circus freak and like far too many common workers cannot even read. I prefer being unimportant and stupid because no one bothers to get rid of me."

"You aren't unimportant, Joe. Not to me."

"I know, my friend, I know." He patted Erik's shoulder when he got up. "Just go home and get some rest."

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	52. Tunnel of Horrors

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Tunnel of Horrors**

If Erik had been under the illusion that things would become easier now that his part was done, he was gravely mistaken. It only became worse. Not that he had to do much, no, his job was now to wait for the money, allow Bruno Riccy to divide it among them and finally wait. Wait, if de Mer's plan would work.

It was terrible not to do anything, not being able to control anything, not even knowing what was happening. The first problem was that the city didn't pay in time. They had assumed it would take about two or three weeks, it took five. Erik had to deal with Riccy each day because Bruno Riccy suspected Erik of already having the money and trying to swindle them. It became worse when the money was really there and they all met in the 24-hours-bar.

Truth was, that Erik was deliberately delaying the payment because he had to prepare the room for their meeting. He wanted it to have a special echo-mechanism that allowed people in the room above it - which was a normal hotel room - to hear everything that was spoken in the private room of the bar below. Thus they could have some reliable witnesses to this. De Mer was absolutely delighted at the idea of having two notaries protocolling the meeting, the problem was, that Erik needed some time to prepare the rooms and build in the eavesdropping operation for except himself and de Mer no one would have to know. Officially Erik was just repairing something in the building after having found that some rats had died between the boards of the ceiling and the floor above. Of course someone might have wondered why he did it himself instead of just sending some worker, but then, they knew he often did work himself he could easily have someone else do.

After having seen Bruno Riccy each day for the last two weeks demanding to know why the money wasn't already there Erik was barely able to control himself now as they sat in the private room together, but being unfriendly or even rude would do no good, on the contrary, he had to behave now, accept their praise and pretend to be happy about the money they could share among them. The profit was huge. Instead of doing real construction and renovation work in stone and steel he had used wooden boards, strawmats and clay and some cheap colors. So of course there was much more money to be divided among than even the corrupt expert - the other one who was drunk so very often wasn't there as expected - was astonished.

"Your friend Mr. Y is far more valuable than we anticipated," the judge said to Bruno Riccy.

"He's a magician, our friend Y," the Italian laughed, jovially clapping Erik's shoulder like one would pet an especially well-trained dog, "A toast to our friend Y!"

Erik shifted uncomfortably. He hated being touched and petted like a dog, but somehow this seemed to be common practice and accepted by the other men. They would sometimes clap each other's shoulders.

As soon as he placed the bundles of banknotes on the table - of course this would all be done in cash only - the haggling began. Of course they had agreed previously on how to share but now everyone was trying to get some extras and even Erik participated, not because he wanted the money but because he knew if he wouldn't fight for his share they would grow suspicious. With Riccy's thugs placed as security guards in the park Erik couldn't afford any problems without risking severe punishment. So he was haggling for Cents as if his life depended on it and found that he even liked it. It felt like wolves tearing apart their prey fighting for each bite and their rank in the pack. Erik would have loved to find himself somewhat in the top but soon found himself as the underdog, which was somewhat to be expected. He did not dare fight harder for he wanted them to think they had him on their side accepting his low rank among them, that he was thankful just to be one of them.

And then the meeting ended like he had suspected it would: they ordered drinks and a girl from the second variety to do a dance of the veils for them. The more the men drank, the worse their manners became. Now suddenly they offered dollars to the girl for taking off some of her clothing after haggling for Cents like misers. Erik stayed in the back now, he didn't like how these men were getting more and more excited about the girl - even demanding more girls should be summoned - and more and more drunk. The girls were no dancers, they were prostitutes and knew what to do but the shameless display of nakedness was disgusting. Erik didn't understand how anyone could find this exciting, he only saw disgusting drunken old men groping prostitutes. That was certainly nothing anyone could ever find appealing, could it?

Maybe it helped that he himself was not as drunk as they were. He was sitting next to a potted plant and secretly emptied glass after glass into the potting compost, wondering if the plant, whatever it was, would survive that much champagne, wine, brandy, even absinthe. And the ashes of the cigars that soon ended in there too. Too much of the burning ashes and cigar ends ended on the table, the chairs, the carpet and even the dresses of the harlots. Not that he calculated with a certain amount of these damages anyways, in a bar one just had to calculate with the usual damages drunken men caused eventually, he just wondered how low these men could go. They were high ranking officials, a judge, two prosecutors, several politicians - and Bruno Riccy, who, like Erik, kept in the background and was a bit more sober.

Suddenly Erik would have preferred the Italian to participate in the celebration and drink. "I hope you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

"Apparently," Riccy replied and lifted his glass.

Erik took his glass and they clinked glasses, false smiles on their faces. Erik knew his smile wasn't as bright as Meg's but he finally mastered a stage-smile now. A mask. Not only was he wearing a real mask covering half of his face now, he wore a second one, a mask of false politeness. Erik had do drink a few glasses with Bruno, he couldn't just empty them into the plant pot because the other man's eyes never left him. When Riccy smoked the fourth cigar Erik decided he had to do something to counter the alcohol. He had gotten the cigarettes with a bit of cocaine in it, he knew they would counter the alcohol. Even knowing that fighting one drug with another drug wasn't a good idea didn't stop him.

As one man after the other left the bar and went to get a room in the hotel with one of the prostitutes Erik decided it was save to leave now. He needed fresh air.

* * *

He came home late and found Meg sitting in the kitchen, reading the newspapers. She sniffed and smelled the stench of smoke on his clothing and the smell of alcohol on his breath. He wasn't drunk, but he surely was squiffy. "O Erik," she sighed, "Do you really have to come home drunk and stinking like a smokehouse?"

"Shut up!" he snapped, "Do you think I like having to endure that? Do you think it is fun drinking and smoking with disgusting old men, watching their..." he stopped himself, took off mask and wig to wash his hands and face. Like every evening Meg had fetched a bucket with water from the faucet and placed it in the kitchen so they had water in the morning.

"O Erik, can't you... too late! Just great! Now I have to fetch another bucket with water! Couldn't you use the tin can and the bowl?" she snapped annoyed. That water had been intended as drinking water to be boiled in the morning. The water in the tin can was for a sponge bath.

"Shut up, you ninny. Next time you can come with me to watch these filthy bastards groping prostitutes! Would you like that?" he retorted with growing anger.

"Ooooo are we wallowing in self-pity again?" Her mockery didn't do any good.

"You started it!" That was surely not the best reply, but he felt the burning in his stomach and throat from too much wine and cigarettes and was certainly not in the mood for bantering.

"Mama? Daddy?" Tony came from his grandmother's room, "Why are you yelling?"

"I did not do any yelling," Erik said, his voice becoming soft as he saw his beloved child, "But I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Now... I'm going to sleep."

"Night," Tony mumbled sleepily and returned to his grandmother's room. Obviously he had decided to sleep in her bed this night.

"And who is to fetch a new bucket with water?" Meg complained. Water he had used to wash off something from his hands and face after a binge couldn't be used as drinking water, even if boiled.

Erik sneered at her and made a point in using his chamber pot - in his own room of course, he wasn't so far gone he would do this before her eyes or when his child or his mother in law could enter the room any moment - much to Meg's annoyance. Couldn't he have used the toilets in the ground floor before coming upstairs to his flat? "If you are on your way downstairs, you can as well take this with you!" he ordered, "Order of the head of the family. Do your wifely duty and obey your husband!" It was utterly childish how he let out his frustration on her.

"I'll douse it over your head, you vile cretin!" Meg was really yelling now, waking up her mother and most likely everyone else in this block of flats.

"What is it now?" Antoinette demanded, coming from her room. Just great. Now everyone was awake.

"You go and fetch a fresh bucket and rinse out the chamber pot!" Erik ordered and slammed the door to his room shut. Tiny pieces of plaster came off the wall from the sheer force of it.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Put Tony to bed, mother, I take care of this."

* * *

The next morning when Meg woke she found that Erik was already up and had done the work she usually did in the morning: cleaning the chamber-pots, warming water for everyone to wash in the kitchen, boiled water and prepared tea and coffee and the table was set for breakfast. She smiled as she saw Erik placing the hot porridge - he had prepared it as Tony loved it, with milk and honey - at the table. When he noticed her he flinched like someone caught in the act and blushed. Was he ashamed that he had done something to apologize?

"Thank you," Meg said simply.

"You're welcome. Meg, I... please just let us pretend yesterday evening didn't happen," he mumbled.

That moment a shriek from Tony made them both jump. "NOOOOO! Granny I won't put on that! No! It's icky!"

"It is cold and you most certainly will put on this!" The joys of having a child... Every day Tony found some reason to do some screaming in the morning.

* * *

Erik's job done they had to wait. Wait and wait. For months and Erik was not kept informed what was going on. He knew something was happening, but what? Did the prosecutors and the judge cover up everything or not? What happened in the government? Who were de Mer's backers, were they mighty enough to protect them or would Riccy's backers be able to guess their scheme and overpower them?

Erik was unable to perform now. He just could not, the only thing he could do was work on his tunnel of horrors. The tunnel of horrors was large but he enlarged it constantly, following his model system adding one module after the other. The official version was that he planned to have the world's largest tunnel of horrors and whenever someone tried to have a bigger one he would add some modules and would have the largest one again.

In truth he build in a sophisticated security system with real traps. There was no danger for customers, as long as they would stay in the small cars that ran on the tiny railways through the building. But if anyone tried to walk the maze on foot he or she would easily fall prey to some of the traps he laid. It was more or less the same system he had used in the opera, only on a smaller scale, which didn't make the traps less lethal. In the vaults of the building he build in something like a dungeon. It could be used as hidingplace for him and his family, with the food and tanks of boiled water he stored there they would last several weeks, maybe more. Or it could of course be used to lock someone up there, maybe a hostage? It was a dungeon as much as a safety room, depending on who had the key and the knowledge how to escape the traps or switch them off.

A tunnel of horrors as safety room. Erik almost laughed at himself at the idea, but then, it was fitting, wasn't it? To a monster like himself a dungeon beneath a tunnel of horrors was the only place where he could feel at home. He sighed and lit a cigarette. It was one of those with a bit cocaine in them. They were sold at almost every kiosk, they contained so little of that drug, surely they would make a perfect substitute for the pills? A saver, milder substitute that would not cause addiction? Erik shrugged the thought off. He needed something that would lessen his panic attacks now and keep him functioning. He could always stop again when this was over.

Erik lost track of time. He was constantly on alert and noticed that he was slowly descending into a diabolical mix of addiction and madness, but he didn't know how to stop it or just slow down.

When he sat in his small kitchen, drinking a glass of wine, he stared out of the dirty window to see the sky and a bit of the ocean under the stars. He loved the ocean. "Erik?" Meg's voice came from the door, she must have woken despite his effort to come in silently. Or had she waited for him? He did not show any reaction. "Erik, I'm worried," Meg said, leaning against the doorframe, "You are not yourself lately."

"I know," he replied, his voice a bit rough from too many cigarettes that day. Not all of them contained cocaine, most were just normal cigarettes without any additional substances. He cleared his throat and took a sip of wine. It was some of the wine that had been left over from the variety, he still could not buy bottles just for his personal use.

"Not only I am worried. Mr. Smith, Mr. Singer, Joe, Irene, Vincent, Squelch, Attamamma, the He-She - we all are worried about you. Especially Benny and Suzie. Suzie knows first-hand what you are getting yourself into! Do you want a heart attack?"

"Gladly," he replied and rested his chin in his hand, his elbow on the table. Meg saw his deformed face, the deformity even more gruesome in the light of the single candle flickering on the table. A tear rolled over his cheek. "It is so very cruel that I cannot even afford to die now. You and Tony, you need me. I was informed today that the covering up in New York began and works even more smoothly than expected. It will be the big catch. But if they arrest the Boss and his backers, his bodyguards are to carry out some revenge order, I'm afraid. It will be a very unpleasant Christmas."

Meg knew better than to question him. She knew what was going on. "Erik, do you..." She took a deep breath and gathered all her courage. "Don't you think being sober would be better in case of an attack?"

"Yes," he replied, staring at the wine in his glass. "I know. I just... I'm so scared. There is nothing I can do, nothing but wait and it is... I've never been a patient man. I do have a plan and if I could I would set it in motion at once, but that would give the whole scheme away. And... I cannot bear the thought that someone would hurt Tony."

"Tony missed you at his birthday, you know."

"Birthday? O, yes, sorry... he's... four now, isn't he?"

"Go to bed!" If he was not sure how old his child was, he really should not drink more. Meg had to smile when she saw him getting up like an obedient child and going to his room. He would soon be asleep, she knew.

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 _to be continued_

 _Next chapter will be up Friday. Thank you for reading and please review! :-)_


	53. Tunnel of Horrors (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Tunnel of Horrors (cont.)**

Winter came far too slowly for Erik's tastes now. As soon as the park was closed down like most of Coney Island he could finally send the security guards who were officially in his employ but they had been Riccy's bodyguards before, away like he had done every winter. Who needs guards in a closed down park?

But now he was able to really prepare the self-defense should there be an attack. Not everyone was allowed to participate, only Erik's most trusted friends who had to be able to fight eventually. The small group consisted of Erik himself, Dr. Johann Gängelmann, Irene Fleck, Squelch and Attamamma. Not much, but they would have to do. Tony was highly offended when Erik told him that he couldn't come to "play" at the tunnel of horrors.

"You can come later. You'll be the king in our little chess-game," Erik explained.

"Chess?" Tony, being a four years old child didn't know anything of chess of course. But since there was time, Erik used a piece of paper to paint a chessboard and explained the basics of chess. Meg stood by wondering if Tony would understand anything of chess. A four years old child - how could he understand this difficult game?

But obviously Erik's explanations seemed to pacify Tony. "You see, the king is the most important figure. He is to be protected at all costs, so it would be stupid to send him to the front, won't it? You are the king in this game."

"Do I get a crown?" Tony demanded.

"Yes, I'll get you a crown. And a sceptre," Erik promised. Surely they would find these things somewhere in the storeroom of the variety.

Tony demanded: "Who needs a sceptre? I want a sword and a Pundjap-Lasso. And a gun and a horse." He obviously had a sense for the practical things in life. Erik couldn't be more proud, but Meg found the child's demand rather frightening, given what she knew about the father. Did Tony really know what to do with lasso, sword and gun? He was only four years old, and he wasn't even a real "he"...

* * *

Meg didn't like it when Erik led her, Tony and Antoinette through the darkness in the tunnel of horrors. The electricity and the light was on - but this didn't mean that it wasn't dark. The scaring automatons were all turned off now, but seeing them made Meg and Antoinette shudder. The automatons looked rather realistic, even if Erik assured them that they were all just a fake, they looked so very realistic like the worst monsters any depraved mind could ever dream up in a nightmare. Meg shuddered. If these automatons were moving they would create the illusion the monsters were alive. No wonder people just loved this tunnel of horrors! No wonder, children and women were forbidden to go there.

"Look, Mama, look! This is my shark!" Tony exclaimed, pointing to a fake shark. "When the cart comes close, it opens its mouth and you see what's inside."

"And what is inside?" Meg asked, her voice quavering. Her mother was staring at the floor, trying not to see the monsters.

"A dead man," Tony was absolutely exited, "And when the cart passes the shark poops a skull." Erik and Tony laughed. It was no question who had had this idea. Erik had turned the innocent child's play into a hellish machine.

"Actually it is... um... a bit more. The shark can really bite, I assure you," Erik explained, "So I advise you to stay away from it. It works more or less like the combined forces of a guillotine and a battering ram."

He lead them to the cellar. This dark whole in the ground reminded Meg and Antoinette uncomfortably of another whole in the ground Erik had deemed comfortable enough to live there. What was he up to now?

He opened a door where no one would ever have expected one. It was another shark, it looked precisely like the dangerous one, but this one opened its mouth as Erik pressed a secret lever and they had to crawl through it. "You can operate the jaws from the room behind, I'll show you how. If someone manages to come here and really finds the lever you could easily chop him in half," Erik explained.

"I'm not sure if I can do this," Meg whispered.

"Me! Me! Me! I'll do it!" Tony exclaimed, pulling at his father's sleeve, "I can do it!"

"I know, Tony, I know. But you are the king, remember? Meg is the queen, she's the last line of defense, I can sacrifice her, that would be a grave loss but I wouldn't lose the whole game. If they get you, the king, I'd lose everything. So you are to stay in the safest room we have, understood? If you are a good boy, I'll teach you riding when this is over." Erik turned to Meg and looked into her eyes. "You can do this. Believe me, before you watch them seizing our child and torturing him to death in the worst way, I'm sure you can kill everyone with this nice guillotine."

Only when they were in the bedroom, Meg understood through what length Erik had gone to construct this dungeon. The bedroom had just one large bed and a table with two benches. On the table were several oil-lamps and canisters with oil stood on the floor beneath the table. There were large stacks of canned food, canisters with boiled water for drinking and extra canisters with water that should be used for washing, if necessary. There was another room with a chair with bucket and a pile with many empty buckets in the corner. "We can live here for at least four weeks without going outside. But I think this won't be necessary," Erik explained, "We either win in the next days or I'll put the escape plan into action."

"Escape plan?"

"Well, yes... more or less the same we did in France."

Tony squeaked in delight when he found what his father had placed there for him: a lasso, a real one, a cutlass made of wood, a fake crown and a woolen cape. The fitting attire for a king. For Meg and her mother there were books to read so they wouldn't get bored. As if anyone would get bored in such a situation!

"You stay here," Erik ordered, "I will be upstairs with the others. Be careful and do not try to leave - we might mistake you in the darkness and accidentally kill you."

The others. Dr. Gängelmann, Squelch, Attamamma and Irene.

The door closed, not before Erik had showed Meg how to operate the guillotine. It was quite easy: Once the man was inside the mouth of the shark, which was just wide enough for a man to crawl through, she had to pull the lever and the mouth would shut, "biting" the man in two. He even showed her how to disable this mechanism, should he come back to fetch them, but warned her to be very careful whom she would "invite" there.

* * *

It was a horrible day. Erik had put up something like a deer stand, complete with a small stove and blankets, conserved food and a canister with water for them. They could very well see if someone would approach them. The building for the tunnel of horrors was made in a way that the only staircase leading in was at the side of it, customers would walk up there while the small carts could be pulled up on a chain. The carts would roll on a railway, it worked like any slide with the power of gravity.

The door where the customers left the tunnel of horrors was at the ground floor level, but it could only be opened from inside. It was a fun-ride as much as it was a stronghold for as soon as one left the cart and the save path that only lead outside again one would have to deal with the scare-automatons which could not only scare but some were really dangerous, so dangerous that the carts had some sort of cage that prevented customers from trying to get out during the ride. This wasn't just a fancy idea to hype this attraction, it was really necessary to keep everyone save. Of course customers thought the design of the carts with the cage to keep the dangers away from the passengers of the fun-ride was just a fancy advertising gimmick and the more Erik insisted the closed cars were really necessary to keep customers save the more they were convinced this was just a publicity stunt.

The most dangerous were the guards. Squelch knew how to use an axe, it was his weapon of choice and with his strength he could kill a bull with his axe - a man's neck wouldn't be a problem at all. Attamamma was well trained in using a spear. Dr. Gängelmann had a sword and surely knew how to use it, even Irene was armed, she had a blowpipe with poisoned darts. Erik had several lassos, knifes, a cutlass and even a colt, but that was more for killing himself before he could be captured. He was armed and ready to kill.

* * *

They were ready - and nothing happened. No one came for them. Had de Mer failed to arrest Riccy and his backers? Where were the thugs that should carry out Riccy's revenge orders? Why didn't come anyone for them? They stayed in their stronghold until the 27th of December, the guards alternately going to the vaults to sleep a few hours or eat something, but nothing happened.

"Why don't they attack?" Erik complained to Dr. Gängelmann for the two were on duty in the morning of the 27th. "Nothing. I was sure we would have to deal with a gang of well armed thugs now, but... where are they?"

"Are you really **complaining** that we do **not** have to fight?" Johann asked amused, "I'd say **thank heavens** there was nothing. Maybe they won't attack at all when Riccy is arrested? Do you know how many of the thugs de Mer would try to arrest?"

"You make it sound like I was eager to kill, which I am most certainly not! I just want this to be over and done, I don't want the endless waiting for some unknown disaster!" Erik shivered with cold and drew the blanket he had wrapped around himself over his cloak closer. "Waiting for the bloodbath is much worse than when it actually happens, trust me, I know."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "I've been emergency surgeon in the war between Prussia and France. I know," the tall doctor replied, "I know what it is like."

That moment they saw a man approaching. He was alone and on foot. "Who is...? O. That's Mr. Smith, err, de Mer." Erik's sharp eyes could identify the man despite the dim light just before sunrise.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Y?" de Mer asked as he climbed up the wooden staircase, "Isn't it a bit cold and early for a fun-ride in the tunnel of horrors?"

"Depends on who wants the ride," Erik replied, "You, of course, are welcome. Tell me, are they arrested?"

"Riccy and his backers? All of them. Unfortunately we didn't get all of the bodyguards," de Mer explained, "And we have another bad news - we are going to need you as a witness in the trial."

"Me? Why? Never! I'm the absolutely worst witness ever! Wild horses couldn't drag me there!" Erik's reply came in a panicked rush.

"A witness, Mr. Y, not defendant!" de Mer answered, "And of course I would prepare you accordingly. I already have the papers about your immunity from prosecution for all of your past crimes. It means whatever you have done until today is like it had never happened. But if you commit a crime today or after today, you'll face stringency of the law."

"As citizen of America?"

"I see you remember every detail of our deal," de Mer answered with a shiver, "Can't we go somewhere a bit warmer? Do we have to talk here?"

"Are you sure that there won't be any... try to avenge Riccy?" Erik asked.

"You are being paranoid," de Mer replied, "As soon Riccy and his... let's say 'commanders' were arrested, the rest left New York in a hurry. They are just the jackals, they won't risk their head for a boss who already fell."

"No honor among thieves, eh?" Erik sighed, "Doesn't mean that Riccy is not in contact with someone who might try to blackmail me and all other witnesses into keeping silent before the court."

"I see. But surely we can talk somewhere else?"

Erik fought for a decision. He didn't want to share his stronghold with de Mer. "The bar is open," he suggested.

* * *

"What were you really doing up there?" de Mer asked, as they sat in a private room in the bar drinking tea.

Erik shook his head. "Can't tell. Just so much: Whatever Riccy tries, I'll protect my family. Apropos family: Did you arrest Riccy's wife and daughter?"

"Yes, because we didn't know how much they knew. Unfortunately the eleven year old girl doesn't know anything and the woman too. I'm afraid we'll have to release them soon," de Mer answered, "And not one of them is interested in a deal of a confession. That was to be expected."

"I can bring Riccy to give you a full confession in his own handwriting. He'd even sign before the court, if you like," Erik replied, thinking of a way to stop every attempt of Riccy's thugs to try to blackmail him through threatening his family.

"How? Torture is not allowed!"

"Certainly not!" Erik retorted indignantly, "Just let me know when you release Riccy's family. I will be there with a carriage to make sure they come home without trouble. Just make sure that Riccy sees this somehow when he's lead from his cell to the interrogation room."

"And you would...?"

"Protect them along with my own family until they wish to leave New York. Just let Riccy know that they are with me and I'm willing and able to protect them from any men who wants to take revenge for what Riccy and his brutal thugs did to their family. I'm sure he understands. Then you demand a full confession in his own handwriting. I'm sure he will comply."

"This is blackmail!" de Mer snapped disgusted.

Erik shrugged. "You think so? We are just letting him know his family is save and well-protected. Surely this cannot be considered blackmail?"

De Mer sipped his tea as he studied Erik. "Why do I have the nasty feeling that I made a big mistake trusting you?"

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 _The shoe drops far more silently then expected... or does it?_

 _Thank you for reading and please review!_

 _Next chapter will be up next week._


	54. The King is Dead - Long Live the King

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **The King is Dead - Long Live the King**

The sooner Erik could allow his family to leave the safety room beneath the tunnel of horrors the better, so he an de Mer agreed to try it as soon as possible. The prosecutor was eager to get a confession from Riccy, but he was not sure if it would work at all or if Riccy trusted some of his men to rescue his family.

Erik went back to the safety room to tell Meg the good news that they could leave soon. He knew Meg and her mother strongly disliked the dark and cold rooms that lacked almost everything that was necessary to make life endurable. When Erik came to the secret door he called out to Meg: "It is me. Do not pull the lever when I'm coming!" It was a certain thrill to crawl through the model of a shark's mouth on hands and knees knowing Meg was in there with the lever in her hand that would turn the shark model to a guillotine and cut him in half - or at least cut off his legs, which would be bad enough.

Sometimes he wondered if she thought about using this machine to kill him. Or was it only him who found thoughts of killing someone completely normal and other people wouldn't even think about that? But then - knowing every day some people were murdered in New York and no one ever cared convinced him that his thoughts were perfectly normal.

He couldn't help a sigh in relief when he had passed the door and stood up to close it again. Nothing had happened, but Meg wasn't even there - he would have to warn her about being constantly on alert for they were still in danger.

He heard Meg and her mother laugh in the bedroom. What he saw there left him standing stock-still in astonishment: Tony was sitting between his mother and grandmother on the bed, the lamp before him on a chair, he held a book in his small hands and was reading from the book aloud. He was reading slowly, stuttering, stumbling over the words, but he was reading. Could a child that age really read? How was this possible?

"Daddy!" Tony exclaimed and wanted to jump up to run to him. Had Antoinette not grabbed him and held him back he would have overturned the chair with the lamp, causing a fire.

"You... did you just read?" Erik asked.

"Mama taught me," Tony informed him proudly, "I love this Christmas! Mama and Granny are there for me all day long and listen to me reading. If you were here too it would be perfect."

"That's wonderful, Tony! I'm so very proud of you!" Erik exclaimed, "That's my son! He's only four and can read like any University docent!" He hugged the child affectionately.

"Erik... how long do we have to stay here?" Meg asked, "It is dark and cold and... I'm scared. I don't like this place. I feel... imprisoned."

"O my stupid Meg. I would never imprison any woman..." Erik caught himself as Meg and Antoinette glared at him angrily, both thinking the very same: it was certainly not beneath him to kidnap a woman and hold her prisoner. Certainly not! He cleared his throat and went on: "It will be over soon. Just a few days longer then the threat of Riccy's men taking revenge will be removed once and for all."

* * *

Riccy was being led from his cell to the interrogation room again. Until now he wasn't really scared - another prosecutor trying to hunt him down. He would be dealt with swiftly like all the other men who had tried that before. No one would ever dare testify against Riccy and a certain prosecutor and judge would see to it that the trial would end before it even began. Riccy could not know that his backers had been arrested too.

When he passed the window he could see his wife and daughter being released and made a mental note to have the insolent prosecutor skinned alive for daring to arrest his wife and daughter. He looked down a second time to see what they were doing and flinched as he recognized the man who was leading them to a carriage: this wasn't the bodyguard! This was the masked magician Mr. Y! Why wasn't the freak in a holding cell? Why hadn't this freak been arrested along with everyone else?

De Mer met a unusually nervous Bruno Riccy. "Good morning," he greeted friendly, "I'm happy to inform you that there is no evidence against your wife and daughter so they have been released just minutes ago. Unfortunately we cannot release their bodyguards for we have evidence against them for criminal assault in several cases, but don't worry, your friend Mr. Y agreed to see to it that not one of your victims will ever try to take revenge on your family."

Riccy paled. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Mr. Y is well aware of the risk that your victims might do to them what you and your thugs did to their families, but Mr. Y assured me that he is well able to protect them," de Mer delivered the prepared sentence and kept his eyes on Riccy, waiting for his reaction. He didn't have to wait long, Riccy jumped to his feet and demanded to be released at once, that Mr. Y was to be arrested for Mr. Y was a criminal, he, Riccy, was just another honest businessman. The words Riccy used were certainly not fit to be taken down in any records. He was so agitated, two guards had to force him back to his chair.

"I do not know what you are talking about," de Mer replied, fully convinced now that Riccy didn't recognize him because he still wore his beard, "Mr. Y did a great service to the State of New York delivering evidence against you."

"He? You cannot trust him! Mr. Y is a disgusting freak, a monster, a murderer!"

"Mr. Riccy, please, I don't know what you are talking about," de Mer replied, trying not to smile in anticipation.

"He killed a prosecutor and only God knows how many others! This is a vile monster! He's the one you ought to arrest and lock away!" Riccy exclaimed furiously.

"Mr. Riccy, I assure you Mr. Y did not kill me," de Mer replied with a grin. He couldn't keep his poker face any longer. He just wished he had a photographer there to take a picture of Riccy's face as the man finally realized that he had walked into a trap. "Now, Mr. Riccy, I can offer you a deal: no death sentence if you give me a full confession in your own handwriting. Or do you want me to call your lawyer? Not the one we had arrested, you need another one, of course..."

"I'll kill that disgusting freak!" Riccy hissed and added some rather vulgar descriptions what he would do to Erik and his family, but the meaning was lost on de Mer who didn't speak Italian.

"Mr. Riccy, I'm sure Mr. Y will take the best care of your wife and daughter," de Mer reminded him, "I know he's well able to protect them from anyone who wants to take revenge. Not that I can think of any honest man who would take revenge on an innocent girl or woman just because the father or husband is an extortionist and murderer."

That did the trick. The more de Mer informed Riccy that his wife and daughter were not in any danger, the more Riccy understood just how dangerous the situation was: his family was in the hands of a monster who could kill them and let them disappear and no one would ever notice. Riccy was furious with himself for underestimating the freak. He had known just how dangerous that man was but he had let himself be fooled by Erik's eagerness to serve. Riccy had really assumed that freaks, like inferior races, were natural born servants and eager to obey. It hadn't crossed his mind that a dog - even the best watchdog - would ever try to become a master. Dogs just don't do that. A dog is happy to have a good master and to obey. If one master sends the dog away, he tries to find a new master. No dog ever tried to become a master himself and so were freaks and other half-animals who weren't really human. His racism had been his downfall, he realized far too late.

And now wife and child were in the hands of the man who would sell them to the highest bidder at the first opportunity - and Riccy knew just how many men would love to pay him back for being beaten and what he did to their families or ordered his men to do to them. He shuddered. "What do you want for keeping my wife and daughter safe?" he asked, finally defeated.

"A full confession. If you give a full confession in your own handwriting and do never revoke it, I'll guarantee that we can protect your family. Or you can rely on the honor of Mr. Y to keep his promise..." De Mer spread his hands. He knew what he was doing wasn't exactly legal in itself, but then, he hadn't uttered one threat, on the contrary, just assured the prisoner his family was save. But of course he knew that catching such a big fish as "the Boss" he couldn't play all fair or he would never succeed.

"Give me that damned paper!" Riccy snapped.

* * *

When Erik got the telegram from de Mer containing just the word "done" he laughed with relief. It was over. Riccy had signed a confession and this would be published in the newspapers - there would be no reason for his men to execute any revenge plan as soon as Riccy had a deal with the prosecutor and delivered his backers on a silver plate.

Immediately Erik allowed his family to leave the save-room and go outside again. "Snowball battle!" Tony exclaimed happily and began forming snowballs and throwing them at everyone who was close enough to be hit. Erik endured his son's game with so much patience, Meg wondered if he noticed the snowballs hitting his legs for he was close to immobile.

"Erik... are you alright?" she asked.

"Hmmm? O yes, yes, my dear. It is just... it is the first day I can breathe without fear again. The first day since... since I left the opera that I'm not scared of a violent mob coming for me and those I love," he took a deep breath and stretched. "We are free, do you realize that?" A snowball hit his stomach but he ignored it. "We are free. All my crimes are erased, I'm free from the danger of being arrested, I'm free from being blackmailed and I have a document declaring me a citizen of America. This means we can never be send away against our own will, I can pass citizenship to our son along with all I have..." He gestured to the buildings around them, they looked wonderful in the sun of the icy day covered in snow as they were. "He will have a better life than we do."

"You are boring!" Tony complained and hit his father's leg with his fists, "Play with me! Play with me now! Play with me!"

"Of course, my boy. What do you want to play?"

"Cowboy!" Tony demanded, "I wanna ride the horse!"

"You can ride one of the ponies."

"No! The ponies are for girls. I wanna ride the horse!" Tony demanded, stomping his foot.

Erik shrugged. "The mare is old and walks around as if she's half asleep. I think she's good for learning how to ride. Come on, Cowboy, I'll teach you."

"Erik! The horse is by far too large for Tony!" Antoinette gasped in shock.

"If I lead her by the reins? Don't be ridiculous!"

* * *

It was a wonderful winter for Erik. He was so happy, nothing could destroy his good mood for weeks. He sat at the piano in the variety composing with Tony by his side, the child drawing. The child was getting better and better, he even added a few letters to his drawings to point out what he wanted.

They had a show with a shark now. This one wasn't an aerialist stunt but technically even more difficult. It was about men in a boat and the shark was swimming around them. The boat would be on strings, the shark would move around it and beneath it so it would look like the shark-automaton wouldn't be on strings, which was of course not true. The shark model couldn't fly. The music was far too buoyant and joyful for the rather frightening setting of men in a boat threatened by a shark - but since Tony strongly identified with the shark and wanted it to eat many fat swimmers Erik had decided that possibly other children would like the shark too. After all, they had loved to see the mechanic wolf eat Little Red Riding Hood. Dancing girls and a few chorus girls in mermaid costumes sang a song about the shark being their protector from the vile sailors in the boat. In the end the boat sank and the shark ate up all men, its belly becoming rather large. This was a really dangerous stunt so even the grown-up audience might appreciate it.

Erik found that now that he saw how much his child loved the amusement park and the various attractions he liked it himself. He began to like the shows he put on in the variety, displaying his magic and music in a playful way families and children would appreciate and love, even if there was always a certain dark strain in most shows, Erik was simply incapable of doing something purely fluffy and happy. And his son just loved to see the shark eating the sailors!

* * *

It was short before the season opening. The park was already bustling with people preparing for the opening. Erik was for the first time rather relaxed, knowing there was no imminent threat from any side, neither banks nor criminals nor tax authorities. His debts were under control and he felt he liked his new life now, he even wanted to do more magic shows now that he had more time.

Erik was on one of his rounds through the park accompanied by Johann who had become his right-hand-man somehow. Suddenly he noticed a group of men approaching him. He flinched as he recognized them - they were some of Riccy's thugs he had been forced to hire as guards! What could they possibly want?

Erik already turned to run but Joe held him back. "Wait! They do not look like they are looking for trouble," he said, "Talk to them."

"Talk? Talk? How could I? They are twelve and I'm alone - too high a risk!"

"Erik, calm down, they aren't here for trouble!"

"How would you know?" Erik snapped angrily.

"If you would care to read your incoming mail you'd know that they ask for a job," Joe replied patiently like he was talking to a panicked child.

"A job?"

They couldn't discuss any longer for the group of men was too close now. They took off their caps and politely waited until Erik turned to them. He did remember all too well how he had received a beating at their hands - well, not all of them, but some of them.

"Sir, since it is season opening we... wanted to ask if we still have our jobs?" one of the men asked, twisting his cap in his hands.

"Why do you think I'd keep you?" Erik asked, "Riccy is gone, as are his backers."

"We know, but... sir, we aren't brutes. We are guards, always have been, and we are boxers. We need the job as guards and we like boxing, so... well, if you'll have us, we'd love to work for you. By the way - can we use the hall for our training in the future?"

Erik stared at them, realizing that he had underestimated them. They had become Riccy's guards because they didn't have much choice in their lives and now they jumped on the opportunity to become his guards. Well, to be true, he knew he would need them to keep the scum away and his customers happy. The difference between worthless scum and a highly appreciated customer was often nothing but the weight of his purse for Erik certainly did provide for drug addicts, gamblers and drinkers. But he wanted them to stay out of his family amusement park. And of course someone would have to frighten the thieves away.

"I'll give you a chance," Erik replied, not daring to refuse, afraid that they might attack if he refused their request now, "Report for duty as usually."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _to be continued_

 _Since I'm a bit ill (cough) I will only post two chapters this week. (cough) I'm sorry I can't do more now._


	55. The King is Dead-Long Live the King(cont

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **The King is Dead - Long Live the King (cont.)**

The audience noticed the change in the park immediately. Erik's mood showed in his shows and in the additions to the various attractions he had build. He actually liked what he was doing now because he was doing it for his family - and not only for them but with them. His assistant on the stage was Meg in most shows and she was still his lead dancer - he even made sure to add real ballet music and real ballet at least for a few minutes to the shows so she could show what she really could do. Who said entertainment seeking audience wouldn't like classical music and classical ballet if it wasn't for hours but for three to maximum five minutes?

And Tony loved what he was doing. He loved sitting in his wooden cage in Erik's office when Erik was doing paperwork. Tony would sit in his cage and do paperwork too - in his case he tried to copy something his father gave him. Erik used this to teach the child to write by letting him copy some papers or even newspaper articles. When Erik was discussing with the bookkeepers he had Tony with him, Tony too got some "bookkeeping" to do to teach him maths. Tony's "bookkeeping" was just Erik giving him a handful of coins letting the child count them and take the number down. Or he let Tony count his pencils or something unimportant. But Tony was convinced he was doing the same work as his father and was very proud of himself. Erik spend some hours with his child each day and he found that he loved it. He loved every minute, he loved when Tony finally was able to count to ten, later to twenty, when Tony proudly informed him that he had 87 Cents in his purse or seven pencils on his desk, one of them nearly used up.

Erik began to love the applause and the admiration he got from the audience. People loved him, especially children and women loved the masked magician. When he went though the park, they would not point or stare rudely but in admiration, they marveled at his genius for creating such formidable automatons. And when Tony was playing in the "Men's playground" he usually pointed out to other boys that "this is MY daddy!" and Erik felt like he would burst with pride whenever Tony called him daddy.

Soon he realized that Tony himself became some sort of attraction when the child was riding the old mare. Tony was sitting on the horse and playing with the lasso while Squelch led the mare by the reins. Before summer Tony could ride alone without any help, tiny as he was, on the old mare and he proved himself skillful with the lasso.

The audience applauded him when he showed his little tricks and Tony was happy. He was four years old and already a magician like his father showing rope-tricks Erik had taught him. The additional fun for the audience was that they never knew when the child would appear where in the park to show a few tricks before he rode away again. Especially the ladies loved the boy.

And suddenly there was something else between Erik and Meg on stage. There was more than just the playact flirting to capture the audience, there was something very real when they bowed to the applause and Erik kissed her hand or when she proudly cheered for him when he did a dangerous trick. There was a genuine warmth between them that just could not be faked.

Meg was simply happy. Now that the worst pressure was gone Erik turned out to be an acceptable husband. He expected to be served by the women in his household but that was his right as a man but now his mood was much lighter and he managed to stay away from any drugs, alcohol and smoking. Instead he preferred mild herbal tea that helped him relax: a tea made from valerian, balm leaves, passion flower herb and peppermint leaves. Quite harmless. Meg suspected the tea to have no other effect than any other hot tea, but as long as he didn't try something stronger, there was no problem.

* * *

It was a wonderful summer evening when Meg went along the beach. She saw Tony riding the old mare, doing his rope tricks while Squelch and Irene were busy collecting the coins from the audience who appreciated to see the child doing his tricks. The rope tricks were simple but since they were presented by a small child on a large horse they were spectacular enough for the people to amuse them.

Meg smiled proudly. Her child, Tony, was certainly coming after his father. Such a talented, clever child! A genius! Never had there been a more talented child! He surely would become the greatest artist in the world - a stunt rider, a circus artist, a musician, a writer, a painter and whatever else he wanted to be.

Then she saw something. Erik was there too, almost hidden in the long shadow of the generator building. He stood there, dressed in his light grey suit, almost silver, with the white mask and his black wig. When she approached him, she saw what he was doing: He silently put up white lilacs. Seven white lilacs.

"Erik?" Meg said softly.

He looked up sadly. "I just watched Tony. He's good, isn't he? In a few years he'll surpass me with ease," Erik replied, trying to distract himself from the task at hand.

"I've seen him. And now I see what you are doing."

He sighed. "I wish... I could undo it. I'm free from the law, but not... not from... knowing. This morning Tony asked why there are flowers and candles here at the generator. I... told him it was a terrible accident that cost seven men their lives..." he trailed off, swallowing hard, trying to contain his tears. "I had to lie to my son." That he had to lie to his child troubled him deeply. He sighed and touched the wall as if he could somehow talk to the souls of the dead men through it.

Erik stood there, leaning against the wall with both hands as if he was just tired after a long workday in summer, but Meg knew better. It was the anniversary of his terrible crime. She had already put up flowers and candles for she knew no one else would remember these men and they deserved that at least someone remembered them eventually. And now Erik had put up white lilacs. "Forgive me," he mumbled, "Have mercy on my soul. One day, when Tony is old enough, I'll tell him the truth. I can only hope he won't disown me then."

"You could do something to honor their names," Meg suggested, "Maybe found a charity helping immigrants?"

Erik's head snapped to the side so he could see her. He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she had just said. Then his glance drifted to where Tony turned his horse and left, he was done with his surprise show and urged the mare to a slow trod - she wouldn't go faster - to leave. Squelch ran after him, the strongman was his bodyguard for now and most likely his best riding teacher.

"The orphanage. I could take over financing the orphanage," he whispered, "Children are the future."

"And stop exploiting them as workers in the textile factory?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well... the factory has been closed down, but I guess I could buy it quite cheap since the previous owner is in jail. I don't think learning to work will do the children harm, but... I'll add a school. The children should go to school and in the factory they shouldn't be exploited but learn something so when they are grown up they have the necessary skills to support themselves. All the money the factory makes is to go to the children. Is that fair?"

"Well... better than before, I guess," Meg sighed slightly annoyed that he still considered his own profit before thinking of someone else even when he wanted to do something good.

"I cannot do more at this moment," he replied, understanding her better than he cared to admit that moment, "But if the park brings in as much as it does now, maybe in a few years I will be able to finance a scholarship for gifted orphans. Until then, all I can do is using the money from the factory to finance a school for them."

"And how do you buy the factory?" Meg asked, "Another loan?"

He shook his head with a weary smile. The blonde woman wasn't stupid, certainly not. She knew perfectly well what he was planning to do. "Actually... yes and no. I have a bit money for the renovation of the block of flats where we live, you know, I promised bathrooms, toilets and electric light. The factory is quite cheap and we would have to wait only few years longer..." he replied with a sheepish smile.

"Mr. Erik Y, you are the most vile scoundrel!" Meg scolded him, "So the price for your 'good deed' won't be paid by you but by me, mother and everyone else who trusts you!"

"I'm just a charlatan playing the generous benefactor," he replied, "but to these children it won't make much difference - if they are treated well and can attend to school they are better off than before, better off than most working class children in fact." Meg was silent for she knew he was right. Children had to work six to twelve hours a day as soon as they were able to stand on their own feet. So if Erik would use all the money the factory made to finance not only the survival of the orphans but a school for them too then they were really better off than the average working class child. And he would gain nothing form this, but he wouldn't pay anything either! Did he ever intend to pay one Cent to the Vicomte? Obviously Erik didn't consider that debt as a loan he had to pay back eventually.

* * *

In September Mr. Singer asked Erik if he wanted to come to the meeting of the businessmen of Coney Island.

"I thought they don't want to have me?" he asked, surprised by the invitation.

"You are the one who took down Bruno Riccy - they are scared of you and don't dare oppose you any longer," Singer informed him, "They asked me to give you their humble apology and most friendly invitation to the next meeting."

"I did nothing to threaten them!" Erik defended himself, "You know this!"

Singer laughed. "I know. And if I had known you'd be the one to take down the Boss I'd have given you the variety for free! You finally avenged all those poor men, women and children! But now... well, the other businessmen have a request. They want you to offer your services as security firm."

Erik's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. "Why?" he asked. He had done nothing, certainly nothing, that they would want to pay him protection money. "This is a misunderstanding! I didn't take Riccy down to replace him, I... I just want to be left in peace!"

Singer laughed even harder. "O my. No! You have guards who keep thieves, beggars and all that scum away that troubles the paying customers. But since you are so very successful in driving them away they tend to gather in the other parks now like grasshoppers. The other businessmen cannot find guards who can deal with them - you already have the guards previously employed by Riccy."

Now Erik too couldn't help laughing. It was just too funny. He had not done anything to get this, he didn't even want this, but then - a security firm isn't something bad, is it? An honest business and he had the knowledge and the men to provide protection like Riccy had done before. Surely the guards in his employ would soon call their friends from the boxing club if he offered jobs. And then he could make some extra money with his security firm providing guards and maybe even more. Being paranoid had its advantage: he was one of the best men to keep unwanted visitors away.

"I accept," he replied with a grin, "Come, Mr. Singer, I want you to witness all these haughty men apologizing to the freak!" What good is a triumph if there are no witnesses to it? And Singer was his consultant and - much to his own dismay - Erik had to admit that he needed him. The park had grown too much, he just could not do all the administration alone, he couldn't even oversee all of the administration done by bookkeepers and secretaries.

* * *

Erik went to the meeting together with Mr. Singer and Meg. Women weren't allowed at business meetings but Erik had decided to show off how he had cowed the other men without even trying.

They were greeted with exceptional politeness and immediately someone rushed to bring a chair for Erik - he had gentlemanly offered his seat to Meg - when servants came to offer refreshments and food. They were treated like royalty now and when they were discussing how to make the situation on Coney Island better for all of them Erik's suggestions were taken as seriously as everyone else's. They even managed to pretend to overlook the mask, only secretly staring when they thought neither Erik nor Meg would see it, wondering if this was really the freak they had known years ago. Could it really be the almost dump half-gargoyle, the shameless half-demon turned himself into a sophisticated businessman with good behavior? Was it possible the French dancing girl turned herself into a lady? Their transformation was almost unbelievable.

But of course as they left the others were certainly talking about them behind their backs. What kind of harlot would want a freak like that in her bed? She really must have the strangest tastes!

Erik sighed as he steered the old mare through the nightly traffic. "Does this city never sleep?" he groaned as another cart blocked his path. He had hoped that late at night it would be easier to drive the carriage.

"I don't care," Meg replied happily, "You were wonderful tonight."

"Ahem... don't mind me..." Singer reminded them that they were not alone in the open carriage. He was highly uncomfortable with the married couple flirting. Frenchmen, he thought, they have a different culture. They tend to show their feelings far too openly.

But that didn't spoil Erik's or Meg's mood. They were happy and felt like king and queen of New York now that they finally - finally! - had managed to build up a life for themselves, for their child, and found acceptance in a certain social group that was certainly not at the bottom of society but more or less honorable businessmen. Not the high society, the really rich men, but certainly way above the poor masses. Somewhere upper middle class, but that was enough for them. It was much more than they had ever dared to hope for when they arrived.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Things are ooking much better for Erik and his family now._

 _Next chapter will be up next week._


	56. Before the Trial

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Before the Trial**

It was early morning at the beach. No one was there because it was too early. No one except Erik and his child. Erik had promised to teach Tony swimming, he thought this was for the child's best living so close to water. Erik would never ever let himself be seen in a swimsuit, he rather went into the sea with his normal clothing on, even mask and wig. Tony of course insisted wearing trousers and shirt as well, if his father wouldn't swim in a swimsuit, he wouldn't let himself be seen in such a thing too.

They were having much fun enjoying the water and the beach. It was just one of these rare moments where Erik forgot everything else and could only think of his child. If there was pure happiness on earth it was this, bathing in the cold sea in the golden glow of the sunrise with his son. That moment Erik decided that moments like this were worth every suffering he had ever endured. He loved his child and was so very proud of it, he couldn't imagine any father loving his child more.

"Good morning," deMer's voice startled them for neither Erik nor Tony had noticed that someone approached them. Erik silently berated himself for his carelessness. If it had not been deMer but someone else they might be dead now. Even with Squelch nearby, who dutifully came to stand between his master and deMer.

"It has been good until you came," Erik snapped, "What do you want?"

"Mr. Y, unfortunately we need you as witness in the trial."

"I thought with Riccy's confession the trial would be over soon?" Erik asked, wondering what he had missed in the whole scheme.

DeMer couldn't suppress a grin as he saw Mr. Y and Tony both completely drenched, walking barefooted through the sand of the beach. Mr Y, who usually tried to look as distinguished as possible, but it was absolutely impossible to look anything but ridiculous drenched in saltwater, with sand on the feet and trousers and a child that rolled in the sand and called happily: "I'm a schnitzerl! I'm a schnitzerl!" coating himself with sand until Erik picked him up and carried him on his arms - with the result that he too was covered with sand.

"Mr. deMer, I'm talking with you!" Erik snapped, annoyed that the other man was staring at him and obviously forgetting to answer.

The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Um... well... I thought that with Riccy's confession we'd nail them all. But unfortunately the lawyers of my ex-colleagues insist that you testify against Riccy and the other defendants."

"Why? You know all I know."

"You are a key witness. It is not so much about the facts but to shatter your image before the eyes of the judges and the jury. They want to show you as the worst criminal of them all, buying his freedom by setting them up. To counter this we have to present you as honorable man."

"Me? O God! No! I cannot... you cannot be serious! Come on, Mr. deMer, you know me. I am in no way presentable in a court trial." The mere thought was ridiculous. If he testified against them and the lawyers got a chance to show him as the disgusting monster he was it had all been in vain for the jury would see him as the worst of them all.

"Mr. Y, you have to trust me. I've lived with you here on Coney Island for more than a year, I've watched you, I've talked with your employees. I know what I am doing. You will go there and tell the court all you know about Bruno Riccy and his methods and his backers. And then I will present witnesses who will convince the court that you are a good man."

"But I am not!" Erik almost yelled.

"Daddy, you are a good man," Tony said, hugging him and accidentally pushing off the wig, "I love you."

"Perfect!" de Mer smiled, "This is exactly what I need! The father who did what he did to protect his child, who had been blackmailed into complicity through vile threats against his son. The jury will love this story."

* * *

The day Erik had to appear before the court was a rather cold day in November, the park had already closed down for winter as usual. Erik had to spend the night in a hotel close to the court building and there were policemen guarding him. An odd sensation for the masked man. Now he was not hounded but the police was there to protect him. Unfortunately this did nothing to ease his anxiety. He knew his family was in the next room in the same hotel, but it felt like there was an ocean between them. He so very much missed Meg's hands treating his sore skin in the evening before he went to bed, his son begging for stories and to be allowed to stay up longer. Usually he hated Meg cleaning the deformed skin-folds on his cheek, his head, his back, where he could not do it himself. It was the feeling that he was being nursed that he hated and of course it tickled and sometimes hurt when she did it. But now he wished for nothing more then her hands rubbing the stinking salve onto his skin and her commends about the development of his skin condition. He even missed the daily fight with Tony to put him to bed. It didn't help much that he could hear the fight going on in the next room. He wanted to be there. He wanted to receive kicks, blows, scratching, spitting and even biting from the defiant child who became stronger each day.

Erik did not sleep that night. He could not. He studied the written instructions deMer had given him how to behave and how to answer and found it most annoying. This was no script he could memorize, it was just general instructions and he would have to give the performance of his life improvising for he didn't even know the storyline of this play! His role was the one role he was absolutely sure he was the worst man they could have cast: the hero. The tragic victim who finally risked everything to fight for the right and became a hero. He - a hero! Never!

His nerves were playing a trick on him as he tried to calm down. He was shaking hard, his stomach empty but turning, cold sweat running down his back. Being alone made it worse, he so much wished he could hold someone in his arms now or even watch his son's peaceful sleep. He wanted to take something to knock him out, but he could not very well ask for a drink or laudanum or something like that when policemen were sitting in the corridor to watch him. He felt like he was a prisoner, only his bed was much softer than the cot in a cell.

* * *

Erik saw Meg briefly as he was escorted from his room to the court building. She was equally guarded and looked a pale and shaken. He knew Antoinette and Tony were to stay in the hotel, but this was no comfort. There were policemen guarding them - he would have preferred them in his safety-room and well guarded by his friends. How could he trust policemen to protect his child? He should never have agreed to de Mer taking Riccy's family to another state and hold them in protective custody. It would have been better to have them in Coney Island with people whom he could trust.

"How's Tony?" he asked.

Meg smiled wearily. "To him this is all just a game. He cannot comprehend the danger. You should have seen him - he... he is fascinated by the stories the policemen tell him and now wants to become policeman himself." She tried to laugh, but it wasn't a real laughter. "You... need to concentrate now. I'm sorry."

"I should not have allowed them to keep us in seperate rooms," he sighed, "I don't know what they were thinking..."

"They thought it was easier to keep us safe this way."

He looked at the policemen around them. There were so many of them, the court building, all the journalists, it was... terrifying. He felt Meg's hand touching his arm. "You can do this," she assured him, "You are a magician, making people believe you can defy the laws of nature - surely you can convince them that the world is better off with people like Riccy behind bars."

He smiled awkwardly. "With men like me behind bars - is that what you wanted to say?"

"No! I'm proud of you," she replied, "You are very brave."

She could not say more for a court usher announced that the court would hear Mr. Y as witness now. Erik shuddered. He had to go into that room and convince everyone that he was the hero who had just wanted to see justice done. He had to convince them that a lie was the truth. He had wished for a chance to wipe the slate clean and begin a new life and now he was getting much more than he had ever bargained for and he hated it. He remembered how he had tied Tony down when the child had refused to get up, telling him if he wouldn't get up now he would have to lie in bed all day. What cruel twist of fate this was. He had wanted a chance to prove to everyone that he was much better than his reputation - and now he had to convince judge and jury.

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 _Erik as a crown witness. That is surely not a role he ever thought he might play. Next chapter will be up on Thursday, it is going to be a bit longer but I don't want to cut it in half..._


	57. Witness

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Witness**

When the door to the courtroom opened and Erik entered the room there was a silence as if everyone held his breath. This was the masked magician, they knew, and they had already heared that he had been Riccy's right hand man. While the prosecution had told everyone that Mr. Y was despite his unusual looks a good man and had been an extortion victim himself, without the vile threats against his family he would never have agreed to work for Riccy, the defense lawyer had told everyone that Mr. Y was even worse than Riccy, that he had orchestrated the arrest of Riccy - who had already confessed - only to replace him and begin his own reign of terror and the men who were accused of being Riccy's backers were innocent and only arrested because they would have opposed Mr. Y taking over the rank of the dethroned criminal overlord.

Erik looked very much like he did on stage - he wore a white silk shirt, a white necktie, a black velvet suit with silver embroidery, his white mask and black wig. He was a bit taller than the average man of this time but he was no giant. His movements were like his audience knew him on stage, graceful and deliberate movements, he was in perfect control of his body, he was in control of every tiny movement and even of his breathing. He seemed to be the perfect picture of self-confidence and calmness, he looked like he already knew what would happen in the next days and was rather bored by the necessity to actually watch a play he had seen many times before. No one knew he had been at the restroom moments ago, trembling and retching, barely able to breathe. No one knew he was in a terrible panic attack and didn't know how he would survive this, that he desperately craved drugs - any drugs would do - to lessen the anxiety.

He had to sit at a chair for everyone to see, close to the judge. He was facing the audience, the jury was to his right side. The defendants and their lawyers were directly before him, the prosecutor was standing. Erik glanced at Riccy, who kept his poker-face but it was clear that there was pure hatred burning in that man. The other's didn't try to hide their contempt, their lawyers had to tell them to shut up or risk a punishment for bad behavior in court.

"Mr. Erik Y, born in France, age 57?" the judge asked.

Erik didn't answer, he was confused about the age. Erik was not his name, Y was not his name and he was sure he was younger than 57. Why did they think he was that old? Not that he actually knew his date of birth, but he was sure he was not 50 yet, at least he felt much younger.

"Mr. Y, in the papers it says you speak fluently?" the judge asked, "But of course we could get a translator?"

"No... that won't be necessary, sir. I'm sorry," Erik apologized, "The particulars are correct." They were not, he knew, this was a fake name with a fake date of birth given to him at the immigration office by corrupt officials. Now he was older on paper than he really was - at least he hoped so - but when he arrived he had certainly not paid any attention to the date they took down as his birthday.

"You know why you are here?" the judge went on.

Erik nodded. "Yes. I'm here as a witness against these defendants."

"Right. Now tell us how you met Mr. Riccy the first time?"

Erik sighed. "It was shortly after I became Mr. Singer's co-manager..."

"Not so fast!" one of the lawyers interrupted, "We need to hear the full story or we won't understand it. Kindly begin when you came to America and why?"

It was almost laughable. "I came to America like everybody else, my pockets empty and my heart full of hope for a better life." De Mer smiled. He wanted to applaud Erik for this answer. He had told Erik that it was absolutely necessary to present him as the good guy so the jury would believe his testimonial as principal witness and Erik was doing well trying to win everybody's heart.

"Go on..."

"I was hired by Mr. Samuel Singer to perform in his variety," Erik went on, "I worked harder than anybody else and made his show a great success. He rewarded me by making me his partner." It was kind of true, wasn't it? "Mr. Riccy was called 'the Boss' and I had only heard of him - he had an insurance company and almost everyone in Coney Island had a 'volcano insurance'."

"A yes, we already read the report from the tax authorities. It is true, in almost every book in Coney Island there is a large sum paid for 'volcano insurance'," the judge reminded the jury of something that must have happened earlier in this trial.

"If one wouldn't pay the first warning was a good trashing, the second the rape of a family member and the third was death," Erik recalled calmly, "I received the first, that was enough to literally beat me into submission."

"Did Mr. Riccy beat you?" one of the lawyers asked and earned a stern rebuke from the judge that it was not his time for questions.

"Not he himself. His thugs. He was there, commanding them and..."

"Not true!" Riccy hissed.

"It is true!" Erik raised his voice, this time showing genuine emotions as he addressed the judge directly: "Can you imagine what it is like to be threatened that if you don't go there to receive the punishment your friends will be killed? Can you imagine what it is like to be forced to lick their boots when they mock you, beat you and kick you? Do you know what it is like when you lie on the filthy ground, blows and kicks coming from all sides far too fast to even try to protect you? The pain, the mortal fear? Do you know what it is like to be forced to stumble through the streets after that, hurt, bleeding, filthy, for everyone to see and no one dares to help you?"

Silence. No one said anything after that outburst, everyone was thinking himself lucky not to know that. Erik took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to run a hand through his hair for he would remove the wig then. He just touched the mask slightly. "I gave in to his demands. What else could I do? Go to the police when everyone knew prosecutor and judge would back Riccy? I could not risk what he would do to my wife!"

"Are you telling us you only joined Riccy's gang because he blackmailed you into it? I have to inform you that Mr. Riccy said you actually blackmailed him into taking you in and his confession is very credible so far," the judge informed him.

Erik took a deep breath and thought about an answer. He couldn't very well tell the truth, could he? He needed a believable lie. "That is true. It was just a magic trick, sir, you see, I'm a stage magician and not a criminal mastermind. My idea was that I might be able to gather evidence and find a judge who is not corruptible to see that justice is done."

A murmur rose in the courtroom. Most people did not believe Erik's statement, but he went on as if nothing had happened: "When Riccy forced me to murder the special prosecutor de Mer I saw my chance and asked him for help."

One prosecutor - de Mer wasn't the only one representing the prosecution - reminded the judge that this matched de Mer's report as it was written years ago. There was a quarrel between the defense lawyers and the prosecution about the whole set-up which was finally stopped by the judge who decided that of course using an accomplice witness was allowed.

"I never committed any crime when I was in Riccy's employ," Erik defended himself, not liking the term "accomplice witness".

"O really? You did not threaten other businessmen? You did not murder the black maid?" one lawyer mocked.

"No I did not! I just told them to give in to Riccy's demands or they would suffer as I had suffered and so many before me. And the maid is not dead, she's alive and well. I just took her away from New York, that's all."

Erik was asked to tell everything about the building fraud scheme and he gave every detail, this time it was easy to say the truth for it really was true that he had only acted as de Mer's spy.

"Thank you, Mr. Y. Defense counsels - your witness!"

This was the line Erik had feared most of all: the cross examination. The lawyers would try to picture him as a depraved monster to shatter everything he had said before.

"Thank you, sir," one of the lawyers got up and came to stand closer to the chair where Erik had to stay seated. "Mr. Y, why are you wearing a mask?"

"Mr. Y's attire is of no consequence!" the prosecutor objected.

"Answer the question," the judge decided.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment, bracing himself for what was to come. "I am horribly disfigured," he admitted reluctantly, "I wear this mask to spare you the horrible view and myself the humiliation of women fainting and men retching at the sight."

"You weren't always that modest, were you?" the lawyer went on.

"I know not what you are speaking of. Everyone who comes to my amusement park knows that I am the masked magician."

"You know perfectly well!" the lawyer roared and leaned towards Erik so their faces were only inches away. Erik instinctively held up his hands to protect himself from being unmasked. "You are not only the masked magician, you are Monsieur Gargoyle, the shameless half-demon parading your ugliness for the paying audience on stage!"

Erik stiffened. That was it. The worst had come to the worst. He could deny it - and if he was forced to take off the mask in the court room everyone would call him a liar. Or he could confess his shame. Confess that he had allowed himself to be put on display, almost naked, what little clothing he had worn giving away the anomaly of his private parts. He felt like he was asked to stand here before all of New York stark naked. He had to sacrifice what little reputation and dignity he had been able to build up in years. But what could he do?

"Mr. Y?" the judge asked and signaled the lawyer to take a step back, "Mr. Y? Do you need a break?" Erik looked at the judge bewildered, then he realized that he was trembling and most likely had gone extremely pale.

"No..." he swallowed, fighting for composure, "I can do this." He looked around in the room, then raised his chin and stared the lawyer interrogating him directly in the eyes. "Allow me to explain."

"A simple 'yes' or 'no' is enough, just answer the question!"

"No, it is not enough! Sir," the masked man addressed the judge, "Am I allowed to answer the question in full to prevent misunderstandings?"

"That is not allowed! He is to answer the question, not hold a speech!" the lawyer objected.

"He has to be allowed to give a full answer to prevent misunderstandings!" the prosecutor argued. The judge called prosecutor and lawyer to his desk and they had a heated discussion until the judge decided that the witness had to answer 'yes' or 'no' but the question of the prosecution for the explanation the witness wanted to give would be permitted.

Erik straightened his back and didn't notice how his fingers were nervously twitching in his lap as he was playing with his wedding ring. "The answer to the question of the defense counsels is: yes, sir," he answered, his voice betraying his distress, "And the answer to the question of the prosecution is: When I came here, I had nothing. I was dressed in rags that were so worn they threatened to fall off my body any moment. I barely spoke English, I was ill and could barely stand on my feet, but I had to provide for my fiancee and her mother. We were on the verge of starving so I accepted the only job that was offered to me. What else could I do? Become a thief?"

De Mer hid behind his large note book because he did not want the jury to see his face. He knew that Erik was lying but the masked freak was lying to see justice done to the corruption circle. De Mer knew that Erik was a man of questionable morality and he was quite sure theft and burglary as well as fraud was nothing the masked man had not done before.

"So you say Mr. Singer forced you to shamelessly put yourself on display in that disgusting show called 'Walpurgis Night'? That he forced you to stand there naked?"

"I wasn't naked!" Erik jumped to his feet and clenched his fists, trying not to punch the lawyer. He reminded himself that he had to give a good impression, he had to win the audience's hearts - not to make a display of his violent temper. "Sorry," he sat down again, "No, Mr. Singer did not force me." He could not bring himself to admit the truth, that it had been his idea. He just could not.

"I do not know what the shows on Coney Island have to do with the criminal organization of Bruno Riccy," the prosecutor assisted Erik, "Except for the fact that this man is one of the extortion victims!"

It felt odd to be called an extortion victim. The masked man forced himself to relax, he took out his handkerchief and started playing with it absently, trying to control himself again. "They just want to present me as a man without honor," Erik answered without being asked, which earned him a rebuke from the judge which he ignored. "I cannot claim to be an honorable man. Yes, it is true, poverty does that to men. I rather lost my honor than starve, that is the truth. But in the years after that I worked hard, harder than anyone else, to become a respectable man. It cost me dearly, yes, but I managed to raise above the circus freak I have been, now I am the owner of one of the larger amusement parks on Coney Island. My magic shows are the best in New York, people come to my variety to see the best shows in America. The defense counsel asked me why I came to America. I came here like every other immigrant hoping to live what you call 'American dream': to build up a respectable life through hard labor and great personal sacrifice. That's what I did. If that is a crime, then I'm guilty as charged."

De Mer smiled. He had known he could trust the masked magicians performance. He had lived with the freaks of Coney Island long enough to know that the masked magician was able to create illusions so realistic that reality itself seemed to be unreal. Now the freak was reduced to nothing but his powerful acting and his hypnotic voice. De Mer knew as well as Erik that this was the show of Erik's life: he had to convince the court that he was an honorable man and could be trusted. This would support his testimonial against Riccy for no other man had dared to take the risk testifying against Riccy, especially after what he had done to them. Which man would ever dare to admit that he had been beaten up and his wife or daughter had been raped? They would never admit their ultimate disgrace. Erik was only giving away that he was an extortion victim, for all de Mer knew Erik's wife had never been assaulted. And Erik had taken such a high risk before, what was admitting that he had been a sideshow freak before he became a businessman? A glance to the jury convinced de Mer that Erik had already convinced them, especially because of his emotional outburst that was certainly genuine.

The lawyer too knew that Erik had the jury's sympathy and they would believe his every word - which was bad because Erik was the key witness. If his testimony would be condemned as untrustworthy, there would remain only one charge. One charge - with the pictures and the protocol of the secret meeting that had somehow been recorded in writing by two notaries it was impossible to deny that - would not mean the same punishment as being part of a criminal organization guilty of extortion, fraud and even murder. But if they would believe Erik it would be life imprisonment or death penalty for most defendants.

"So you confess to being a man without honor? A man without honor is no man at all. That you claim to be a man at all is an offense to every respectable man! You are just a fraud, a circus freak!" The lawyer deliberately raised his voice in an aggressive way. He knew that Mr. Y's bad temper was notorious and if he managed to show everyone that this masked freak was less than human, only half a man, the jury would forget whatever he had told the court.

De Mer jumped to his feet and rushed to stand between Erik and the lawyer, he just had to prevent an escalation in the court room. "Objection! Your honor, I have to protest! The defense counsil is trying to make the jury believe that only because someone looks different he cannot be trusted! This cannot be! I have to remind you of all the heros of the war, many of them maimed, you cannot possibly deny them their rights just because they don't look good any more! We are nearly living in the 20th century and not in the middle ages! You cannot allow a verdict being based on archaic prejudice!"

Erik was still sitting in his chair, clasping the armrests so hard his knuckles where white on his hands. He was trembling with the effort to restrain his fury. He could not allow himself to act like the vicious untamed beast they wanted him to be. He had to stay in control, he had to behave like a man, he just had to! But he knew he was fighting a lost cause. He knew he would lose control far too soon and not be able to restrain himself if this lasted much longer.

"Objection sustained!" the judge decided and looked at Erik, "Mr. Y, are you ready to answer more questions?" The old judge knew when a witness was close to suffering a nervous breakdown and this witness looked like he would either faint or run amok any moment now.

Erik shook his head, clenching his teeth so hard his jar hurt but he didn't dare open his mouth now. He could not go on.

"Are you finished with your questions?" the judge asked the defense counsel who nodded.

That moment another defense counsel stood up. "Your honor, I do not have a question, just a request. The witness is masked, how are we to know that it is really him?"

"Sir, with all due respect, this is a court room not a freakshow!" de Mer objected, knowing that Erik was close to losing his temper and this was a very sensitive topic.

The judge called the prosecution team and the defense counsels to his desk and again they had a heated discussion wether or not the witness ought to be asked to take the mask off. Finally the judge decided that the half-mask he wore was enough to obscure his identity so he had to show his face to prove that it was really him.

Erik broke out in a cold sweat and was trembling uncontrollably. He looked down briefly to check if he had soiled himself in his sudden panic, which he had not, and still held onto the armrest, trying to stay seated and immobile. This could not be! This simply could not be true! They were like everyone else, they just wanted to stare at him, the freak, the monster. Nothing he had said counted, nothing he had done counted, that he had risked his life and that of his family did not count, again he was just an exotic animal in a zoo to be stared at.

He barely heard the argument between the prosecution team - which was on his side in this, arguing that they were certainly not in a sideshow and no man should be forced to reveal his deformity to the curious eyes of rubberneckers - and the defense lawyers who demanded that he had to take off the mask so the court could identify him without any doubts.

The judge turned to him. "Mr. Y, you look positively ill. Do you need a break? Maybe a glass of water?" he asked sympathetically.

"No!" the defense lawyer objected, "No break! If this is an imposter they could switch places if there was a break! Just let him take off the mask then he can go!"

"Mr. Y, please take off the mask!" the judge ordered.

"Please... don't do this to me!" Erik's voice was suddenly the voice of a frightened child, "Please don't!" His worst nightmare was coming true again. Again he would have to endure the stares of a gawking crowd, the gasps and screams in delighted horror and disgust. Again he would he helpless, disgraced, at their mercy and they would have none. Somehow it was worse to do this here than in a variety. In a sideshow with many other freaks it was one thing but here, in a court room, it was something else altogether. It was even more humiliating than everything he had ever endured in his life.

Suddenly Jonathan de Mer's face appeared before him and the prosecutor placed his hands on Erik's shaking shoulders, forcing him to look up. "Mr. Y, the judge asked you to prove your identity taking off the mask. If you refuse this your testimony is worthless. You cannot back out now!"

"I cannot do this Jonathan, please, please spare me!" his voice was a pitiful whisper, "Please, you have no idea what you ask!"

"Mr. Y do you want to tell your son that Riccy is free after ten years in prison because you couldn't overcome your misplaced pride? Because that is going to happen if we don't have your testimony! With only his confession he won't get anything worse than ten years, maybe even less for he confessed..."

Erik allowed himself a weary smile. "You are quite good in manipulating men yourself, aren't you? I guess I've been a good teacher in the last year... I'll do this. Step aside, please and let me do this in my way. But don't complain if you have to wipe up blood and vomit afterwards."

De Mer went back to his desk where the rest of the prosecutors had already taken their places.

Erik took a deep breath and exhaled with a shudder, bracing himself for what was to come. "You really want to see it?" he asked, his voice deep with pain as he addressed the defense lawyer who jumped on the opportunity to humiliate the key witness, trying again to enrage him to show everyone that this was a monster and not the defendants.

"You were quite eager to put yourself on display stark naked in the limelight of a questionable vaudeville stage on Coney Island," the lawyer reminded him, "And now you refuse to show your face in a court room to prove your identity?" The lawyer took out a dollar of his purse with grand gesture. "This is the difference, isn't it? This dollar makes the difference. Here, I'll pay you for the show!" he threw the dollar at Erik's feet.

Erik felt like something snapped within his heart. He suddenly felt calm as if a dark cloud of superiority had engulfed him. He was sure his eyes were going black like those of a shark before it attacked its prey. He slowly rose from his chair as his voice became the most seductive. He knew he was casting a spell over the audience - for everyone, the lawyers, prosecuters, judge and jury and of course the journalists and all the men who just wanted to satisfy their curiosity. They were just his audience now and he knew he could make them think whatever he wanted them to believe now.

"As you command, your honor," he began, "But I have to ask you if you really know what you are demanding of me. I told you I am deformed. To be true, I am deformed from birth. My own mother couldn't stand to see my face and forced me to wear a mask. I was put on display like an animal in a zoo, humiliated, abused and nearly killed more times than I can count. I was beaten, kicked, people spit in my face, tried to slice my throat, stab me or shoot me dead or even stone me to death so often I cannot even count. Do you know what it is like when women faint at the mere sight of your face? Can you imagine what it is like to hear your own mother pray to God to take your life the sooner the better? Do you even dare to imagine what it is like to be hounded by a bloodthirsty mob for no mortal sin but the grotesque face?"

Erik went to the jury to stand directly before them. His voice seemed to come directly from hell but it was so powerful no one could look away even if they wanted to. "You want to see me. And see me you shall. Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my accursed ugliness!" With that he ripped off mask and wig - and the men in the jury screamed like girls in their shock. They had known that he was deformed but to see his face only inches before their eyes was more than they could bear. Erik retreated from them, nodding slowly, mask and wig in his hands. "I thought so. We are living nearly in the 20th century and not in the middle ages. Surely grown men can stand to see my face, there is no need to wear a mask. Uh-huh. I see." His voice was dripping with deadly acid as he let his detest for all humankind shimmer through his sarcasm. He turned to the judge. "Your honor, are you satisfied having put me on display before all of New York? What is another public humiliation to such as I? Let me tell you something: You never - **never**! - get used to this."

Oppressive silence followed his speech. No one dared to say anything, not even the defense lawyers. Everyone felt ashamed for showing fear and disgust and most of them pitied the man who stood before them.

Erik slowly put on his mask and wig again. He grabbed the judge's desk to support himself as his strength left him, he felt as if he was about to faint now. Tears fell from his eyes but he did not even notice that. "In all my life I've been shunned and despised, humiliated and abused just because of the way I was born. It is not my fault that I am ugly. It is not..." he choked back a sob "...not my fault... I just... wanted to be... like everyone else... just... just once..." He slowly sank to his knees, covering his masked face in his hands, his shoulders shaking, giving away that he lost control and was already crying.

De Mer got up and placed his hand on Erik's shoulder. The prosecutor didn't wait for permission to take Erik away. He knew the judge was moved to tears by Erik's breakdown which was genuine. Even Erik wasn't such a good actor, the emotions had been there, raw and true. He had not only unmasked his face but his heart, showing them the vulnerable child he was, wanting nothing but being accepted as another human being. Only a very cruel man would not be moved to tears.

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 _A very long chapter, but I just could not split it in two. Sorry. Next chapter will be up next week!_

 _Please review! I'm a known review-addict ;-P_


	58. Saving Grace

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Saving Grace**

The judge told everyone that the court session was over and the court would meet the next day again. He didn't admit that he needed this break himself now to somehow overcome the shock of seeing that deformed man - and the mixed feelings that man had managed to evoce in him. "I do not want to have to read anything about the looks of the witness in tomorrows newspaper. If I do I will personally see to it that the publisher is sued for endangering the life of a key witness."

De Mer took Erik to a room which had been prepared for a meeting. Erik was barely able to walk and well aware that without the prosecutor's firm grip on his arm he might have fallen. He couldn't believe he was alive, when he had taken off his mask he had been sure he would die then and there. But he lost everything - again. His carefully build up facade had been ripped away brutally before an official court - he had been forced to show himself naked, vulnerable, before the state of New York itself. How could he ever live with that? But then - where else could he go? He couldn't just sell the amusement park and go away to live somewhere else. He had fought so hard and now lost everything again.

Erik collapsed in a chair as de Mer locked the door behind them. "Can I get you something?" the prosecutor asked sympathetically.

"Yes, please. I need a drink. Something... strong, you understand?"

"Brandy?"

De Mer watched with growing unease as Erik downed the first glass greedily. He had lived on Coney Island long enough to have witnessed at least some of Erik's binges and knew the danger. Erik poured himself another glass and gulped it down with the same need.

"That is enough," de Mer took the bottle away after the third glass, "We need you sober tomorrow just in case we need you again."

"Again? Never! I can never enter that building again!"

De Mer sighed. Where was the commanding self-confident man who had been in the court room? This was just a shaking wreck before him, reminding him more of a frightened boy than a man. He handed him the fourth brandy, hoping this might calm the masked man a bit.

It caused him to cough because he had been too greedy.

"Mr. Y, I think what happened today did most of the trick," he said, "Your testimony as key witness is priceless."

"You have no idea what it cost me," Erik whispered, taking the bottle to help himself to a fifth glass of brandy.

De Mer nodded, standing beside Erik, leaning casually against the table. "I think today I got an impression," he replied, "And I think others did too - this might have helped you more than you think."

Erik laughed bitterly, a forced chuckle. "You told me I was a key witness. Today I got the impression I was the only defendant in there."

"That is only because you did not see the other days in this never ending trial. They just try to shatter your credibility as they do with every adverse witness. So I will have to call some character witnesses tomorrow."

"O no... please tell me this is a nightmare and I'm going to wake up with a terrible hangover any moment now!" Erik groaned, resting his head on the table.

"Well... if you keep drinking at this rate I can assure you that you are going to suffer a terrible hangover," Jonathan de Mer answered and spread his hands with an amused grin before snatching the bottle from Erik again.

The masked man stared at the empty glass in his hand and shrugged with a sheepish grin as he held it out, wordlessly demanding a refill.

"Certainly not! You had enough! I'll call the policemen who will take you to the hotel. There you will eat and then go to sleep."

"I'm not hungry..." Erik shook himself as he realized how odd their discussion was. "Mr. de Mer, do we really have to have this conversation? Leave the nagging to my wife!"

"I need you in the court room tomorrow, strong, determined and on your feet - not with your head in a bowl," de Mer replied sternly, "I need you the picture of a man determined to see justice done."

"What? Do you want me to come with a loaded gun ready to shoot the defendants in the court room?"

De Mer was not sure if Erik made a tasteless joke or really misunderstood his intentions. He decided to take him seriously, just in case. "Certainly not. You go there, looking determined and stern, hold your head high and your shoulders squared. You don't have to do anything, just sit there and hear the witnesses I call tomorrow."

"Character witnesses telling the judge that I am such a good guy, only terribly disfigured but as ugly as I am on the surface as good is my golden heart," Erik mocked.

"Maybe you are better than you give yourself credit."

* * *

Erik did not know how he managed to eat, how he managed to sleep that night. Somehow he did, he knew he would need his strength the next day. Going into the room, pretending to be calm and determined, keeping his dignity when he wanted nothing but to run away and hide himself, bury himself alive and never come out again. Now he would have to enter the same room where the same men waited for him that had witnessed his humiliation, had seen his face, knew his disgrace. And he would have to pretend not to notice, he would have to pretend not to care.

Erik was dressed from head to toe in black, except for the white mask. He even wore a black walking cane (which conveniantly contained a hidden blade) and had two lassos hidden in his vest. He felt better if he would be able to protect himself, should the need arise. When he entered the court room and took a seat in the last row of benches with his back against the wall he felt everyone's eyes on him. He sat back, trying to look bored, forcing himself to relax, but he couldn't help placing the cane firmly before him, holding onto it with both hands.

It was more or less the same setting as the day before, the same people - and de Mer had been right, they all stared at him. Erik tipped his hat and nodded as if he was greeting someone. Not that he was really doing this, but it caused many men to turn round and look at the judge in front of them again and not stare at him. Erik was sure the judge and the jury would look at him, they would recognize if he showed anything but calmness and self-confidence. But it was awful to pretend to be untroubled by the events of the last day when he wanted nothing but drug himself into oblivion and forget for a few precious moments. Not now, he berated himself, not now. This is just another performance and I'll give you the show you deserve.

The judge called the first witness that day: Mr. Samuel Singer. Erik groaned invardly. If Singer told everything he knew about him, he would call him extortionist and liar, drug-addict and adulterer.

"Mr. Samuel Singer," the judge asked, "I understand that you are here as character witness for your key witness Mr. Y?"

"Yes. But after I learned that Mr. Y had dared to testify against Mr. Riccy in full, I want to tell the whole story. I build up the variety "Sam Singers Spectacular Show", that had been my dream all along. I wanted to have my own variety after I was manager of several other theaters. As soon as my variety was finished and the shows began, Mr. Bruno Riccy came to me and told me that I needed an insurance. I certainly did not need any insurance against volcano eruption for there is certainly no volcano anywhere near New York so I told him to go to hell. Three days later my son was kidnapped and I was told that either I humbly apologize and pay what is due or I won't see my child again. I went there and handed over the money but the Boss decided that he needed to make an example of me. I was beaten up viciously, I woke three days later in hospital and was bed-ridden for six weeks. My son returned to me. From that day on I paid the sum the Boss demanded, but I did not want to accept the extortion. I asked the other businessmen what they did and everyone told me not to defy the Boss. I did not believe them. I believed in our justice then and went to the police. The outcome was terrible: Instead of investigating against Bruno Riccy I was sentenced to two months in prison for defamation. When I came home I found my wife in a terrible state. Riccy's thugs had come for her and she had been the victim of gang-rape and then they had paraded her through the streets naked after that. She was... devastated. She could not live in Coney Island any longer, I wanted to sell the variety but after what had happened no one dared to buy it for the Boss wasn't done with me. I had no money for everything I had was in that theater. I had to protect my wife and my children somehow so I send them away, far away, hoping they would be out of the Boss' reach in another state. I did not see my wife, my sons and daughters for ten long years. I did not dare write them or receive letters from them or about them for I did not dare to give away where I had hidden them. All the time I had to pay the Boss and do favors he demanded. I could not defy him again and I saw others try - and it was always the same. First they were beaten up, then one of their family members was raped. I saw women and even children suffer, I saw them forced to walk home naked. If someone did not give in then he would just disappear. Sometimes the body was found, sometimes not."

Everyone was silent in the room. The man who had come just as character witness now supported Erik's story with his own. He had suffered even more at the hands of Bruno Riccy and his backers who had sent him to prison instead of helping him.

"Thank you, Mr. Singer," the judge said and turned to the court recorder: "Did you get everything he said?" The court recorder nodded. "Any questions?"

The prosecution declined. They wouldn't need Singer to tell anyone that Erik's testimony was true if Singer made his own testimony.

The defense lawyers had a question: "We were told that you were a character witness supporting Mr. Y. We'd like to hear about him."

"Very well. I..." The rat-like man hesitated. He had to stick with the story or he would get into trouble himself. Fortunately for Erik they had to tell the same lie to protect themselves. "I was always looking for interesting freaks for my vaudeville show. So when I heard of him, I hired him immediately. Mr. Y is a talented musician, did you know that? Very talented. If audience was blind I guess he would be playing at some opera house in New York, not my variety on Coney Island. And he is not only a talented musician, he's an architect, designer, magician - the perfect showman. So I offered him a shares of my company to keep him in my employ - every vaudeville theater or circus in America would have loved to hire him."

It was not entirely true, but Singer knew he had to convince everyone that Erik was a good man so his testimony would be accepted by the court. "Well, when he asked me to sell him the whole theater I accepted, glad that I could finally go to live with my family. At first I stayed as consultant, helping and supporting Mr. Y to establish his amusement park. Did anyone see the Hall of Wonders? No? I strongly suggest you go there next season, it shows Mr. Y's skill as engineer."

"You are not answering the question. Tell us, Mr. Samuel Singer, is Mr. Erik Y a trustworthy man? We know he's a freak and put himself shamelessly on display for money - can we trust his word? Or is he just another criminal who ought to be locked away for good?"

"Sir, with all due respect, I trust Mr. Y above everyone else. He fulfilled our contract to the letter against all odds. He kept all of his promises to me. I certainly do trust him. He has some character flaws, sometimes a bad temper and he surely can't hold his liquor, but he is an honest man."

Erik clasped his hand before his mouth to prevent anyone who might watch him from seeing his surprise. Had Mr. Singer declared him an honest man on oath? After all he had done to Singer? Sure, he had paid a fair price, more than that, he had paid an exorbitant consultant fee for five years, but Erik had never anticipated Singer would declare him an honest man. Or was it just that Singer hated Riccy so much he would tell everything to get him sentenced to death or at least a lifetime in prison?

The next witness the prosecutor called was the man whom Erik had stolen the sharks. Erik lowered his head to conceal his face behind the wide brimmed hat, trying to look like he was looking for something he had dropped on the floor. Could this day become any worse? Here he had thought yesterday was hell, but now?

"... character witness?"

Erik silently cursed himself for not paying attention. He still did not know that man's name and was too ashamed to ask.

The man nodded. "I got to know Mr. Y when he bought my collection of stuffed sharks. You see, I'm growing old and didn't want to be constantly on the move with my sideshow exhibition. He paid a fair price. Unfortunately after our deal I was robbed, left with nothing. When Mr. Y learned of my misfortune he hired me immediately. He gave me a job when no one wanted an old man like me, he gave me and my wife a flat to live in and pays me 40 dollars a month for doing close to nothing. 40 dollars a month and a flat for free when healthy and strong men earn 30 dollars a months in factories! This is not the life I thought I would have, but I cannot praise Mr. Y's generousity towards his employees enough."

Erik sat there completely paralyzed in shock. Of course, that man still did not know that he was the robber who had taken all of his money and what he was doing now was just a drop in the bucket, but to hear himself be pictured as role model of a generous employer was almost unbearable. But could he ever confess his crime? Could he ever ask for forgiveness or would that make the old man even more unhappy? What could he do?

"When the fat woman suffered a heart attack, Mr. Y saved her life and paid for her stay in the hospital. I know that it cost him much, very much money. He cares for his employees, I see that each day, he pays a fair wage to everyone and he does not dismiss anyone for being ill, no, as soon as one is well again he or she can have the job back. Did anyone of you hear about the terrible accident a few years ago? Seven workers were killed through their own carelessness disobeying his orders. Every year he and his wife put up flowers at the place of the accident in memoriam of them."

Erik bit his lip to prevent himself from calling out just how wrong this was. He sat there and listened to the lies that pictured him as a virtuous man. Lies, that's all it was. Lies. Terrible lies he himself had started and that had gotten completely out of control by now. This man, whom he had wronged, was praising him as a generous role-model, a paragon of virtue when he was a robber and murderer. Something wet dropped at his hand. It was blood. He took out his handkerchief and pressed it to his bleeding lip, knowing this had not gone unnoticed by the judge, or was he just being paranoid? Were really all eyes on him or was he just being delusional?

The next witness was Meg and Erik wanted to run, only to find that his body did not obey him. He could not get up, could not move, he felt as if he had been locked inside of a stone gargyole that was his body now.

Meg looked wonderful, if a bit pale, in her ivory colored dress. She had her hair done and wore a tiny ivory colored hat. A perfect lady. Was this really his Meg? Erik was so busy staring at her perfect smile at the judge that he did not even hear what the judge asked her.

"Yes, your honor, I am Mr. Erik Y's wife," she answered, "As you might guess I do not know much about his business. You see, business is nothing for women, I am his lead dancer and magician's assistant and I raise our child, do the household..." The old judge was clearly immediately smitten with her charms. Meg gave him the brightest smile and deliberately blinked slowly as she went on: "My husband is always protecting me so I never came in touch with anything that had to do with the Boss. I don't know if I would even recognize him should I see him."

Well, some men on the dock clearly recognized her but kept silent.

"I remember when we found my dear husband lying in the street, injured, bleeding. He was not able to do his regular work for three weeks, all he told us was that he had to give in now for he couldn't risk the alternative."

An affirmative nod from most members of the jury followed. All of them understood that every man would feel the need to protect such a lovely blonde girl. Her funny French accent only made her more attractive.

"Mrs Y," one of the lawyers adressed her, "As his wife you are not obligued to answer, but: Do you think Mr. Y is an honest man or do you think he would lie?"

Erik's heart skipped not one but multiple beats. Meg knew him far too well, would she lie in his favor now?

"I do not mind answering," she replied with a bright smile and somehow managed to blush. "My husband would never lie in a court trial. Never. The only lies he tells is on stage when he is doing his magic shows, but then, everyone expects a magician to create illusions, isn't it?"

"What about the rumors that he has a violent temper and is a drug addict?"

Meg gasped for air indignantly. "Sir, this goes too far! My husband certainly does not have a violent temper! He can be harsh, if necessary, but he is no cruel man! And he is certainly no drunkard or drug addict, no sir, absolutely not! He is a very generous, forgiving man. A liberal, tolerant man."

"Kindly explain that."

Meg took a deep breath and looked at Erik who looked like a white marble statue now, the uncovered part of his mask as white as the mask itself. He looked at her in despair, knowing that she could have her revenge on him now, showing everyone what vile monster he really was. She looked him in the eyes and smiled. "He is music. His whole being is music. If there was an Angel of Music, it would be him. He **is** the **Angel of Music**."

A fallen angel, o how deep he had fallen! He winced at the thought. It was even more painful to receive undeserved praise than to be called a criminal, a monster, which was far more true.

"When I first saw Erik, I thought he was a monster. He does look like one, if you see his face without the mask. But then I had the privilege of getting to know him. He is no monster, he is just a man who wants nothing but to be accepted by his fellow men. Erik is great man, he could be the greatest of mankind, if it was not for his deformed face - but instead of becomming bitter and vengeful he is constantly working hard to help others, to give them dignity where he was denied his, to help them make the best of their talents so they can support themselves. If you look at him, do it as I do - do not look at his face, look at his heart."

Erik stared at his shoes, not able to face anyone. Meg was lying shamelessly in his favor, picturing him as a good man when he was not. If anyone could see his heart he would find it even worse deformed than his face. He felt horrible. There was his loving wife defending him like a lioness her cub - and that after all he had done to her. She deserved better than he had treated her in the past.

Erik barely noticed as the judge announced that the jury was to retire for deliberation. He barely reacted as Meg went to him and gently took his arm. They were taken back to the hotel and he could only collapse onto his bed, pressing his masked face in the pillow, crying himself to sleep.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _I'm quite busy this week so I apologize for not being able to keep up my schedule. The next chapter will be up next week._


	59. Aftermath

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Aftermath**

The day the verdict against the members of the criminal organization under Bruno Riccy would be announced was a week later. A week! The waiting had been almost unbearable for Erik. He felt imprisoned, which he was more or less, in the hotel. He was constantly guarded by policemen, as were his wife, his son and his mother in law. While Meg and Antoinette greatly enjoyed the luxury of living in a noble hotel, Erik felt like a prisoner, especially when he was not allowed to leave his - quite comfortable - room without at least two policemen guarding him. He could only see his family when the police allowed this. Of course he could just climb out of the window and try to enter the suite where his family was like a cat-burglar would. But he could not bring himself to do that. He felt so very tired, drained, weak.

Erik was barely able to get up in the morning. Getting dressed was almost too much for him now, opening the door to receive the tray with his breakfast. He could barely eat or drink, sat all day long on the chair staring at nothing in particular. The only meal he would really eat was breakfast, he needed up to six hours to finish breakfast, then he would lie down and stare at the ceiling rather than ask a bell boy to fire the chimney again. He longed for some kind of relief, but was too ashamed of himself to ask the room service to bring him liquor. He had heared the accusations against him that he was a drug addict and alcoholic, if he would order anything he felt as if he would confirm that. It did not occur to him that almost no one was interested in him - the journalists more or less ignored him and concentrated on the really interesting facts like the private life of the politicians and officials.

The one who enjoyed the situation to the maximum was Tony who admired the policemen and they loved the boy who was so very clever. A four year old boy, rather small and looking frail for his age, blonde like his mother but with dark brown eyes like his father, who wanted to know everything of becoming a policeman. He even begged them to let him help them working and they gave him a form to fill - and to their astonishment he did. The boy could write! Tony soon was everybody's darling at the local police station. He showed them his rope tricks - not knowing that most of them were not just for fun but could be used to kill - and they ejoyed his skill with the lasso very much. The four years old boy managed to keep a whole police station busy and entertained.

At the day of the announcement of the verdict a large crowd gathered before the court building, awaiting the verdict against the criminal organisation under Bruno Riccy and his accomplices - among them high ranking officials in justice, tax authorities, police and politicians.

Erik was allowed to enter the court building for he was the key witness in this. He kept his shoulders squared and his head high as he walked arm in arm with Meg to the court building. It was an odd feeling to walk through the crowd, guarded by policemen. The police was not there to arrest him but to protect him, the crowd would not attack him or try to hurt him but looked at him with... respect? Could it be that they truly respected him now? He tried to show no emotions at all, but he knew he was looking very pale. He felt cold despite his fine woolen suit and the warm cloak and he had a pounding headache. Unfortunately not eating and drinking enough had weakened him and he suffered a cold, but he could not care about that now.

This time he took a seat in the front row of the benches for the audience, Meg sitting at his side. He noticed that no one wanted to sit close to him, the other men who would attend to the announcement of the verdict would rather squeeze in one of the other benches or remain standing. Finally Mr. Singer chose to sit next to Erik.

The defendants were led into the room, then the jury and at last the judge. An usher told everyone to stand up. Erik briefly felt lightheaded and swayed, he had to concentrate hard to remain on his feet. Meg grabbed his arm as if she needed his support, in truth she was supporting him now.

The judge formally asked the jury for their verdict and the speaker handed him a paper. The judge read it and then said loudly: "We find all defendants guilty as charged."

Meg couldn't hold back a yelp of delight, threw her arms around Erik and hugged him. Erik did not return the embrace, he could barely stand on his feet now as all tension left his body. Around them other men were cheering as well, obviously they were happy to see Bruno Riccy and his accomplices being found guilty and locked away. The judge demanded silence as he went on telling the sentences. All defendants were sentenced to very long prison sentences, all of them to several hundred years. It was impossible that they would ever be free again.

* * *

Erik and his family were brought back to their home in a carriage. Tony was not happy to have to leave his new friends, the policemen. Meg was busy telling her mother every detail she knew and discussing what the newspapers wrote. Erik was silent, clasping his walking cane, staring out of the window without seeing anything. In his mind he relived again and again what had happened in the court room. He had won, he had achieved everything he had ever dreamed of - he was a respectable citizen of America now. No one would ever blame him for his past crimes as if they were wiped away. In the eyes of the public he was a good man, the newspapers had made him a hero, a man living the American dream, a role model despite his deformity which caused many speculations: Was it a birth defect? The result of an injury? Was he a hero of the war?

He was not. He felt the weight of his guilt heavier than ever before. The men who had been sentenced to several hundred years in prison - they would die behind bars - had done nothing he had not done himself. And now he was free and everyone called im a role model. But he was not the good man they thought him to be. But could he ever confess his crimes or would that do even more damage? What could he do? He felt as if he was helplessly drifting in a river without any way to control where he might end up. All he could do was to try not to drown. But right now he felt weary, he was not sure drowning would not be a nice alternative.

* * *

That evening Meg wondered why Erik did not come home. Of course after being away so many days he had to work, but it was late, really late, even for him. Had something happened? The prosecutor had assured them that after the verdict no one would stick with Bruno Riccy and his backers, everyone who had been friends with them would be too busy trying to deny to have ever met them, but what if this was wrong? Had something happened, had someone dared to attack Erik in the amusement park despite all the guards?

She decided to go looking for him, but not alone, that would be too dangerous. At this time of the night the only shops open for business would be the 24-hours-bar, the brothel, the casino and the opium den. Drunken, drugged or desperate men in the streets and it was dark. So she went to the next flat, the one the tall doctor whose name she still couldn't pronounce, Squelch and Fleck shared. Meg knocked until a rather annoyed doctor opened the door. He was dressed in a nightshirt that was too short for him. Of course. He was about two meters tall, it was difficult to find any clothing fitting his size and he would not waste money having a nightshirt custom-made.

"What?" the tall man groaned, "Is Tony sneezing and therefor you are scared he might die?"

Meg didn't have time to ask herself what had earned her this quip from the doctor. "Dr. Gangle..."

"Gängelmann, but if you couldn't get this right in all these years you might as well call me Gangle," the tall man yawned.

"Doctor, I'm worried about Erik, he did not come home... can you help me searching for him? Please? I am really worried!"

"I get dressed and wake Squelch."

* * *

Together they went to the dark park. Even the family entertainment area seemed to be frightening now that it was in nearly complete darkness, the park was closed down and snow covered everything. Only very few tracks in the snow showed the way to the business which wouldn't be closed for winter. Like the 24-hours-bar in the ground floor of the luxury hotel. "I guess he's just getting drunk," Squelch sighed, "If he pukes on my jacket when I carry him home, you clean it!" Meg rolled her eyes. Quite possible that Erik was getting drunk, he was in a strange mood when she had last seen him.

He was. They saw him immediately sitting in a chair at a table, staring blankly at nothing, a bottle before him. The barman had placed a bucket next to his chair, just to be safe. The way Erik was slumped in the heavy grandfather chair told them everything. He was drunk to a level where he could not hold himself upright, he would not be able to stand on his feet. Right now he was asleep - or was he unconscious?

"A, Mrs. Y," the barman greeted her, "I was about to send for you. He's... inebriated."

"How much did he drink?" the doctor asked, checking Erik's pulse and breathing.

"Two bottles of whiskey. Then I filled cold tea into an empty whiskey bottle and gave him that. Old barman's trick. He was so far gone he didn't notice the difference."

"Why didn't you call me earlier?" Meg snapped angrily.

"Ma'am, he's my boss - I can't refuse if he wants a drink," the barman replied calmly, "I suggest you take him home before he damages his reputation."

Erik woke when Squelch grabbed him and pulled him up to a standing position. He groaned and tried to free himself.

Meg yelled at Erik: "You come with me immediately!"

He answered something no one understood.

"What did you say?"

"Nicey Missy... no, I'm married..."

Meg didn't know if she ought to laugh or slap him. He was so drunk he didn't recognize her, but on the other hand he refused an invitation by a nice girl because he was married... Just how drunk was he that he suddenly assumed any woman would find him attractive? He was not, would never be. If any woman would want to be with him it was because of his genius - or maybe just because she pitied him. But nothing that could ever make him likeable was there now that he was stinking drunk.

"Let's put him to bed," Squelch sighed and gave Erik a firemen's lift. The masked man was unable to resist in any way.

"You will make him sick if you carry him like this," the tall doctor warned him.

"Meg will thank me tomorrow if I manage to make him sick enough before we put him to bed." The two men laughed and Meg braced herself for a very hard night holding a bucket for her husband. Sometimes she thought she shouldn't help him, let him wake up in his filth, let him clean up his own mess as soon as he was back on his feet - but she did not want to risk her child finding his father in such a state.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Erik hates not knowing what to do - but getting drunk surely is the worst option he could chose now!_


	60. Regret

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Regret**

Erik woke to an extremely cold room. He shivered and tried to open his eyes but all he could see was a blur. He could make out different colors but they were moving before his eyes and he could not focus on anything. He tried to pull the blanket up to cover himself but his hands wouldn't close and a tremor seized his body. He broke in cold sweat as a wave of nausea hit him. That moment a small but very strong hand grabbed his neck and pushed his head over the edge of his bed. His back ached from the unnatural position he was in now but he couldn't escape the grip of whomever was holding him now in his weakened state. His eyes opened involuntary and he saw that a bucket was hovering before his face. He didn't like it but this was precisely what he needed now as the tremor in his limbs was accompanied by painful contortion of the muscles in is stomach and his weak cough turned into violent retching.

"Done?" Meg's annoyed voice asked and he managed a weak nod. She released him and he rolled onto his back with a groan. His whole body was on fire, he was trembling uncontrollably and his back and neck told him that she must have turned him round forcefully quite often in the last hours, but the worst was his pounding headache.

A cold, wet washcloth landed none too gently on his face. She must have thrown it at him. Never mind, the coolness seemed to help the headache a bit and the water that dripped on his dry lips... he could not remember being that thirsty before. He opened his lips and tried to get some of the precious drops of water.

"Thirsty? Do you think you can keep anything down?" Meg asked, her voice giving away just how angry she was. He braced himself for a good telling-off, he could do nothing to prevent it. A spoon touched his lips and he accepted the liquid - only to gag at the terrible taste immediately. It was ginger tea with caraway but Meg must have used ten times as much ginger as the recipe said.

Immediately his neck was seized again and he felt himself turned painfully so his head was over the edge of the bed in the stinking bucket again. If he hadn't felt nauseous before, he definitely was now, but there was nothing left he could bring up. His back ached and he wanted to lie back but she held him firmly in place. In his position - half lying on his stomach, half on his side - with his trembling limbs he was no match for her. It felt like an eternity before she was convinced that he was really done retching and she released him. With a groan he rolled onto his back, he wanted nothing but to go back to sleep, his body hurt so much, most of all his head.

Meg used the break to give him a good telling-off. She had quite a good voice, the years in the variety where she had to sing too and not only dance and she knew how to raise her voice to a piercing shriek. Every one of her words felt like a sledgehammer on his head. She told him precisely with rather rude descriptions what he had done the night before. "This is the last time I'm helping you, you disgusting swine! Next time I leave you to care for yourself! Yes, sir, this is precisely what I am going to do, you'll lie in the bar for everyone to see and if one of your employees and customers doesn't know what filthy beast you really are I'm going to stand at the door as barker and collect entrance fee! Let's see if **that** would be enough to teach you not to get drunk!"

"Stop it... no more..." He had meant that to sound like an order but it came out as a desperate plea. He was unable to do anything, unable to sit up - what else could he do than beg for mercy?

* * *

It took three days before Erik was on his feet again, rueful and ashamed. You live freely if you haven't a reputation to lose. Well, this was not true. He knew he would have to work hard to regain at least some respect from his employees. Too many of them knew of his binge, not only of this one, but the far too many times before. Small wonder everyone thought him to be a man who couldn't hold his liquor. But somehow this was not true - he was not one of those who drank every day or got drunk every Saturday, no, he would go weeks without even the weakest form of alcohol. And then... this.

He had so much to make up for, he was not quite sure where to begin. But he would begin immediately. He went to see the man whom he had stolen the stuffed sharks.

It took him a nearly an hour pacing before and around the building before he found the courage to knock at the door. The flat was as shabby as the others and as cold. The only room that had a stove was the kitchen. Like in the other blocks of flats there was a livingroom and four small bedrooms. No bathroom, if one wanted to wash, one had to use the stove in the kitchen to heat water and a bathtub made of copper or metal or even a wooden washtub.

The old man opened the door himself. Erik noticed immediately that the man was wearing very warm woolen clothing against the coldness. "O, it is you, sir," the old man gave a deep bow and gestured for Erik to come in. A genuine smile showed that he was really happy to see his boss - and Erik had to fight for every breath now, he was so tensed up the muscles in his chest barely allowed him to draw in the next breath.

"This way, sir, if you please. To what do we owe the honor?"

"O, Mr. Y, sir, welcome. I've just made tea. Please, have a seat. May I offer some cake?" The old woman - the wife of his one-time victim - greeted him. Her back was bent telling of long years of having to lift far too heavy loads for a woman, her hair grey and thin. Her face was wrinkled but her grey eyes were sparkling with happiness and a thirst for life many young people lacked.

"Thank you, no," Erik declined. He knew how expensive food was and a cake was nothing they should share with him.

"Ah, that's a mistake! My Molly makes the best cake in New York! Here... have a piece of it."

Erik found himself sitting at the table as the woman placed a cup of hot tea and a piece of cake before him. He felt his resolve shatter. How could he confess to them what he had done? They respected and trusted him, if he shattered that trust now, would he make everything worse for them? "I came to thank you for what you said before the court," he began.

"No need to thank me. It is the truth, you saved us from ending up as homeless beggars in our old age. True, this life is not what we hoped for in our retirement, but thanks to you we have a really good life now!"

Erik stared at the cake. He knew he should confess now, but when he saw the old wrinkled faces before him, the couple smiling at him with respect and thankfulness, he could not. He could not bring himself to confess and break their hearts. "What did you plan for your retirement?" he asked and sipped at his tea.

"Well... we had planned to settle down. Buy a nice flat in some good area of the city and live the rest of our days in comfortable wealth with a maid to care for the household," the old man said and looked at his wife, taking her hand and and gently caressing her calloused crooked fingers affectionately, "And we wanted to enjoy the good things in life. Good food, good music... and maybe leave something for our children to inherit. Not that they need it, but it would be nice to leave them some wealth."

Erik sniffed, trying to fight back tears.

"Sir, are you not well?" the old woman asked sympathetically.

Erik coughed, "Just a cold..." Another cough, a real one this time. "Madame, Monsieur, I am deeply sorry that I cannot do more for now, but please believe me, I will do my best..."

"Mr. Y, you did more than anyone else would do," the old man replied with a fond smile, "You gave us a roof over our heads and pay me for sitting at the beach all summer long - I feel like I'm on permanent well-paid holiday."

Erik stared at the old couple. He had forgotten for a moment that he had not confessed his crime to them. "And that is what you are. I hope to begin with the renovation soon, so the flats will be more comfortable. Stoves in each room, indoor plumbing, running water and maybe even electric light. But that has to wait. For now... I can only increase your salary. Instead of 40 dollars a month I'm going to pay 60. With that additional money you can take in a maid."

The old woman sank to her knees before him and kissed his hand crying. "You are so generous, sir, but we cannot..."

"It is nothing," Erik replied, pulling her up from the floor, "It is nothing. You... you have to know that... what you said about me in the court room is not true. I am not a good man. I've done things I deeply regret..." he trailed off, unable to go on with his confession. He just could not, no matter what. Even under torture he would not confess his crime before them.

"We do not know about your past. We just know what you are now: a philantropist. To us, you've shown nothing but kindness. And we can see it in the way you treat your other employees - you give them flats, pay them a fair wage and even let them stay when they are ill, which is more than most businessmen would do. You live with us, in the same blocks of flats, you do not allow yourself one luxury you do not grant us - how could anyone not be grateful?"

Erik shook his head slightly. Maybe he could make up for what he did. Maybe he could without ever telling them the truth. He did not have the money to pay them what he really owed them, but he could try to make up for his crime in the years to come. He just had to. "Thank you. Madame, Monsieur, I have to go now..."

"O but you didn't touch the cake. Wait, let me get a clean dishtowel, you can take home. You son will love it. He's such a clever and diligent boy, always wanting to work to help earning money, he's so much like his father."

* * *

Erik managed to go a few blocks before he had to lean against a wall and try to calm himself. He raised his face and looked up in the grey winter sky. Big snowflakes slowly, silently fell to the icy ground. Fell to the plumb-colored sea with the tiny ice floes dancing on the softly rolling weaves. He felt the snowflakes on the unmasked side of his face melt and mix with his tears.

He did not know how long he had been standing there and when he realized that he was close to the pier. He watched some couples who stayed at the hotel enjoy the snowy beach and go for a walk, but they did not see him as he stood leaning with his back against the wall. The couples were most certainly not married. Who would spend some days in winter in a closed down amusement park with nothing to do but stay in the hotel with the restaurant and the bar? Quite boring until the most interesting thing of this pleasure trip was in the hotel room...

He shook his head, knowing he had no right to look down upon these men. Mostly elderly rich men with young beautiful women at their side. Not all of these young women looked really happy, but that was nothing new to him.

Then he noticed a woman who was alone. It was Meg and she looked like she was looking for someone. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the confrontation, then he forced himself to stand upright and approach her. She saw him and came to him.

"We need to talk," she said and he nodded, offering his arm so they could just go for a walk in the soft snowfall like some others did.

"I've been there, but I couldn't confess... They... absolutely adore me. To them I am a saint, when in truth I am just... what I am," he mumbled, "Here - they gave me some cake for Tony. I increased his wages and freed him of any obligation to work for me. I cannot do more for now, but maybe I can give them the comfortable security I robbed them. At least I hope so," Erik was more or less talking to himself.

Meg understood better than he assumed. In his drunken stupor he had confessed what troubled him, confessed much more than just the sins she already knew - only he had been too drunk to remember now. "It's good to hear you found your conscience, it has been misplaced far too long," she snapped, "But that certainly is not what we need to talk about."

"I guess you are telling me now not to drink again?" he sighed.

"Exactly. Erik, I am so fed up to have to nurse you through the hangover. To hold the bucket for you when you keep vomiting again and again, to listen to your ranting, your brawling. I am fed up having to fend off your disgusting advances. You have no idea to what disgusting swine you degenerate when you are drunk - and then you think yourself irresistable! Bah! I'm absolutely fed up cleaning up the terrible mess you make, the stench that lingers the flat for days no matter how hard I scrub the floor and the furniture. I have to replace your straw-mattress, do you realize how expensive a mattress is? You soiled the bed in a way the straw will rot now. And that isn't even the worst thing: the worst is that I have to lie to Tony and tell him you are just 'ill' and I dread the day he finds out the truth."

They had stopped walking and stood now face to face close to the pier. The other people were far away, they would not hear them. "I am sorry," Erik said softly, turning his head to look at the sea. Everything seemed to be grey now. The ocean: grey like plumb, the pier: dark grey, the wooden storefronts: brownish grey, even the snow seemed to be grey now, the sky was grey and even the slowly falling snowflakes seemed to be grey.

"Do you even realize that we are living from my mother's wages and mine? You own everything here - but you do not bring one Cent home to pay for our living. Mother and I have to go to stand in line with everyone else and wait for our weekly wages to be paid. And we pay for everything we need to live, the food, the coals, the candles, soap, clothing - everything! You are far too busy having your head in the clouds and playing the distinguished businessman to care for the necessities of your life, you own everything here, but you forget to take a few dollars to contribute to our family's livelihood."

He stared at her, realizing that she was right. He had been so busy, he had never thought about the daily things. "Well, I... My finances are better, but not as good as I had hoped they might be. I can put money away for the renovation work and... I don't need Mr. Singer as a consultant any longer. When I'm sending him away we can move in the penthouse on the variety. But I want to keep my promise, I want my friends to live in better homes."

"You are avoiding the real issue," Meg snapped angrily, "I want you to stop drinking or taking drugs or whatever."

He sighed, the muscles in his jaw working, showing her that he was fighting with himself. "Yes," he replied, "I'll try to behave in the future. That binge was... I didn't really want it... it was just... I had one tea with rum and thought about..."

"...what was said about you in the trial. I know. You told me at least six times how wrong everything was, how ashamed you are of your bad deeds and promised to make up for them. But Erik, can't you see what you are doing to me and our child now? Making up for past wrongs is all good and well and I really appreciate that you want to live up to the falsely idolized image they created of you - but if the price is my love and our child's happiness, it is too high."

"Your love? After all I did, you **love** me?" He could not believe it. How could she love him? How? After everything he had put her through?

"Right now it is very hard to do that," she replied, "Because I'm not sure how much more I can endure."

He looked her in the eyes, noticed how pale, yes, grey her face was and the deep circles under her eyes. She looked much older than she really was. Her weary statement showed him that he was about to lose her, really lose her this time, if he wouldn't change his ways. The thought of losing her was frightening. He did not want that. He had grown so used to her he couldn't imagine what life would be like without her. "Please... give me a chance to set things right. When I enjoy a good reputation I don't deserve, I can as well try to live up to that. I'll try, Meg, I promise. Will you... will you help me?"

He slowly, hesitantly lowered his face to hers, waiting for her to reject him, to slap him or spit in his face, but she did nothing like that. She accepted his shy kiss to her cheek. "Tomorrow I tell the cashier that you get another fifty dollars a months. That would be my wages, I guess, so that I'll provide for our needs. I think... I have to talk to the bookkeepers, but this will certainly be possible. And this Christmas - I think in the hotel we have some rooms free. What do you think, only you, me and Tony, pretending to be there for holiday?"

"And mother? If mother and Tony share one room, we could have the other..."

Erik wasn't sure if she really meant that. After all he had done to her, why was she still trying to make their marriage work? Why was she still fighting to make them a good family?

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _No wonder Erik suffers a terrible hangover. One can only hope he learned his lesson this time!_


	61. Fortune rota volvitur

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Fortune rota volvitur**

For Meg this was the best Christmas she had in years - Erik had done his best to create the right mood as if they really were on holiday. For Tony it was the most boring Christmas ever. He had to endure his grandmother dressing him in a fine suit and even the fact that he was wearing long trousers didn't make up for her constant "Don't do this, you'll get your suit dirty or rip it!" He wasn't allowed to run, to lay at the floor, to play with his ropes, to paint and he wasn't even allowed to play with his xylophone for the other guests would want to have peace and quiet and of course horse-riding was forbidden with the suit. What was allowed? And worst of all he had to share a room with his grandmother while his mother was allowed to sleep in his daddy's bed! No fair!

But Meg was happy. They would dine together in their room, Erik had brought his violin to play for them as they sang Christmas carols. Unfortunately it turned out Tony had absolutely no control of his vocal chords and sang something that had nothing to do with anything the others sang and he didn't even realize that. How could anyone be so terribly immusical? To Antoinette's and Meg's great surprise Erik seemed deaf to any mistakes his son made. How could a man who criticised the smallest mistake in the best orchestra in the world mercilessly - even those mistakes maybe no one else would ever notice - be completely deaf when it came to his son singing so terribly wrong Meg just wished he would allow her to tell the child to shut up. But he would have none of it, praised his son's volume - Not that as well! - and encouraged him to sing more with him.

When they were finally alone - it had been a hard fight to convince Tony to go to bed and Antoinette that she should stay there to make sure Tony stayed in bed - Meg sank down on the settee with a sigh. "It is so good to be in a warm room, having a hot meal without having to carry coals and water four stories upstairs and having to cook and wash dishes afterwards." Not the most romantic praise but it was heartfelt and gave Erik a better impression of her worries than anything else.

"I cannot afford this luxury every day," he excused himself, "Even if I am a rich man now, the money is not in cash but in the buildings, the attractions, the shows and yes, my artists... I have to pay back the loan to the bank for purchasing the small textile factory and save money to eventually renovate the blocks of flats... So to be true, for my own personal needs I don't have more than fifty dollars a month, which is less than I pay my most important staff members, including you. But... I have a gift for you." He took out a tiny box and presented it to her.

"What is it?" Meg asked, wondering if it was a ring or a necklace.

"Just open it." His smile showed her that he was sure she would like the gift.

When she opened it, she found a small key. "That is a key?" she asked, she had been so sure it would be a piece of jewelry that she didn't get the meaning.

"The key to our new home," he said. He stood there, his hands in his pockets, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "The penthouse. Mr. Singer moves out, the five years are over, he's going to live with his family now. The penthouse is free for us to use. It lacks furniture since he took almost everything with him, but... it is two hundred squaremeters. We could even have a party in the parlor, should we want to. Can you imagine how many rooms we are going to have? Electric light. Chimneys and stoves in every room. Indoor plumbing. A bathroom with a heater and a bathtub. And we will have a maid. I hired a black maid to do the housework for you. She has been a slave and is now free. She is going to do the household in exchange for a room to live in and food and clothing. I even consider giving her pocket money, like 5 dollars a month, if she's diligent and loyal." He bit his lip as he noticed he was just babbling - like always when he was terribly nervous and others didn't react like he had thought they would.

Meg cried.

"O no, you don't like it... please, don't cry, I'll..."

"No, I love it!" she flung her arms around his neck and kissed his unmasked cheek passionately, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

* * *

Moving in the empty penthouse was not easy. Sam Singer hat taken all the furniture with him so the pentouse was empty. Empty rooms, no carpets, no furniture, nothing. Even the stove in the kitchen was gone, only the chimneys were there, he couldn't very well take that with him.

"Woooohooooo!" Tony yelled and ran through the rooms, "I have my own racing course!" He had discovered that it was possible to form a racing course if he left the right doors open. Meg made a mental note to keep these doors locked to prevent Tony from running in the house too much.

"Have you seen the bathroom? The toilet? Indoor plumbing! A stove in the bathroom and a boiler - we can keep the water warm all day long if we like to!" Antoinette exclaimed happily. She had missed the luxury she had in Paris very much.

"The kitchen! Have you seen how large the kitchen is?" Meg called out, "And we have the whole roof as our balcony! I'll put up flower tubs, it will be great!"

Erik was silent. He stood in the room which he knew from previous visits as the music room. It had a wonderful view to the pier and the sea. "The piano..." he mumbled, "He left his grand piano." He approached the piano shyly as if he was afraid it might run away like a shy deer. When he finally touched the polished black wood of the piano, tears fell from his eyes. He opened the cover and tried the keys cautiously as if the piano was made of very thin glass. What he heard pleased him greatly, the piano was well-maintained and had a good sound. It was only a bit out of tune due to the coldness in the penthouse, but Erik could tune it easily.

He noticed a paper on the music stand. It was a calling card with Mr. Samuel Singer's new address. He turned the card round and read the note.

" _Dear Mr. Y_

 _If you ever need my advise, feel free to ask. I hope you enjoy the piano. I will forever be in your dept for you avenged me and my family._

 _Your friend_

 _Samuel_ "

Meg found Erik sitting at the piano, silently crying as he caressed the keys of the piano. "Erik?" she asked, wondering if he was happy or sad. This was difficult to tell with him always wearing his mask and wig, even around his family.

"Meg... We did it," he whispered, "We... we really did it! Can you imagine it? We have a home. Our home!"

She stood behind him as she placed her arms around his neck gently. "Our home," she replied. She knew it would be hard work until this empty house would really be a home, but it was theirs and now they had enough space for everyone. A bedroom for each one, a music room for Erik, a real parlor where they would even be able to invite someone - once it was furnished - and all the luxury they had missed so much for years. They would even have a maid who would live in the servant's room next to the kitchen. They would live like upper class people lived - only not in Manhatten but on Coney Island, but then, who cared about that? They were close to the sea, to the pier they loved and they would not have to worry about coldness and household problems. Erik wouldn't catch a cold each winter when he was playing the piano in the variety's orchestra pit. Tony would have a large room where he would not only sleep but play and Meg imagined putting up a desk for Tony where he could paint and read and learn.

Erik had already begun teaching Tony maths and reading and writing and knew how to motivate Tony to learn: Since the child wanted to be like his father, Erik made him a mask and gave him a small suit that matched his - even if it was too large on Tony but he grew so very fast - and told him to do administration work like he did in his office each day. To Tony it was maths - he had to count the coins he earned and keep a book about this - reading and writing. Erik encouraged Tony to read by giving him books to find out himself what he wanted to know instead of just answering questions like most parents would have done. He didn't care much about the issue Tony was currently being interested in as long as Tony did read and wrote his own stories. Tony's ideas were far from being ready for the stage but sometimes he actually did come up with an idea Erik could build up to a show.

* * *

Life became much better for Erik and his family, especially now when everyone had his own room - Erik had three rooms for himself, his bedroom, his music room and his library, which was at first lacking books but one book after the other seemed to appear mysteriously in the shelves.

With the threat from Bruno Riccy removed - his thugs were now Erik's security guards parading around Coney Island in fancy uniform like suits Erik had designed to make them look respectable - Erik was finally able to breathe more freely, especially as he learned that most of the thugs were quite happy being some sort of private police force - perfectly legal - and no longer criminals. Most of them had families and were quite happy with the new situation. They knew Erik had a completely different approach of doing business than Riccy, Erik was more a gentleman who did not use open threats and violence. He just had his guards sending the scum - thieves, drug-addicts and drunkards (who couldn't pay) and everyone who would bother the customers - away. The other businessmen paid him well for this service for they knew if they didn't Erik would not have to lift one finger, all the scum would immediately gather in their parks or close to their businesses where no guards would remove them. This was enough for them to pay.

Erik was growing much calmer and more patient, he even began working on music as he himself liked. Nothing like his "Don Juan" but something rather friendly. A lighter fairytale opera a bit like Mozart's "Magic Flute" in style but of course with a complete different story. The story was about a man who was born as illegitimate child to a poor maid, had to work hard from the day he could first stand on his feet and tried to find happiness. He became rich not through work but through cheating in card-games. With the money he bought a factory, a nice house. But he didn't find happiness, so he thought happiness didn't only consist of wealth but also a family. He got married, but was so busy trying to get what he lacked that he neglected his wife and their child. And then he had a riding accident and was badly injured. In a ballet scene - that was really the whole third act - he saw what he had missed: Man and woman together, happy, having lots of friends, many children. The scenery indicated that they weren't rich, just middle-class, but they were happy and had lots of friends. He survived, but sat in a wheelchair now. He would never dance with his wife or his child, now he could only watch them dancing, but they danced around him to make him feel like he was part of their happiness.

Meg was delighted whenever he worked on this, even if she highly doubted he would ever be able to finish this opera, which contained so many wonderful ballet pieces, it was more or less a mixture between opera and ballet. Erik was not composing for Christine. He was composing an opera for her! The role of the wife was nearly mute - Meg wasn't sure if she should be angry for he considered her voice inadequate for real opera music or happy that he concentrated on her dancing - but the message of this piece showed her that he had learned a very hard lesson in his life and tried to become a better man now, make up for his mistakes. It was like he was composing this to tell himself to stop longing for something he could not have but concentrate on what he had or he would miss whatever happiness fate had in store for him and one day it would be too late. It was his way of working things out: compose an opera. Right now he seemed determined to do things right for once, which was a good sign. Only he was so busy composing he spend less time with Tony who turned to Squelch as his strong big friend who taught him riding like cowboys did. Well, one couldn't have everything.

* * *

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 _to be continued... (on Monday)_

 _Have a nice weekend and please review!_


	62. Fortune rota volvitur (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Fortune rota volvitur (cont.)**

It was early in the summer when Erik's composing was disturbed by an errand boy who told him they needed him in the casino. "O no, is the mechanic horse race broken again?" he sighed.

"No sir," the boy replied - he was really just a boy only a bit older than Tony and he was earning money as message boy between the various attractions in the amusement park like many other boys his age - "They say you have to come."

With a groan Erik put away his papers and went with the boy. It was a wonderful summer day and the park was full of people seeking amusement, most of them greeting him friendly and far too many approaching him, especially children, to beg the masked magician to show them extra tricks or just tell him how much they loved him - or his son, that is. There were some children who asked especially for shows from Tony. Erik was torn between being happy because they appreciated him and his son and the urgent problem in the casino.

When he finally got there, the manager of the casino informed him that there was a man who always doubled the stake at the roulette each round and had now reached the limit.

"Since when do we have a limit?" Erik asked confused, "Who ordered this?"

"You did," the manager - a small Chinese man - replied laughing - "You told us not to accept any bet that might result in winnings higher than what was in cash in the cashier's safe because you didn't want to risk losing one Cent."

"How clever of me," Erik sighed. He had completely forgotten about this detail and could not remember ever giving such order. Or maybe one of his risk-shy women had given the order and made it sound like it had been his? He knew his mother in law loved to take things in her own hands.

The Chinese pointed to a man in elegant clothing. That man was dressed as if he had just come from the real horse racing course. He sat there, bored and rather annoyed, nipping at a drink. "What are we to do?" he asked.

"I talk to him," Erik decided. He hated this. He absolutely hated this but he was the owner and it was his responsibility to deal with troubles. He went to the man and introduced himself as Mr. Y, owner of this amusement park.

"Ah," was the only answer he got.

"You do not seem to enjoy yourself. Maybe I can help you?" Erik asked, trying to sound like he really had any interest in this man who stunk of alcohol and smoke and horses. He must have been at the horse racing before he came here.

"They won't let me place the bet I want to," the man explained, "They say it was your orders?"

"Maybe it was a misunderstanding," Erik replied, uncomfortably scratching his chin. He had not shaved this day and the stubble - what little he had anyways - was itching under the mask but he didn't dare remove the mask, not even reach beneath it to scratch. He would have to shave as soon as he got home.

"Certainly not!" the man took a folded paper out of his pocket, "I wanted to play roulette and bet this."

Erik took the paper. It was an ownership contract for a racehorse, a five year old stallion named Chocolate with a brand mark showing a C. The list of previous owners and the places he won in races were also in there and there was much space for more races and more owners. "Well... that's a problem. You see, if you win, I can't give you 35 horses of the same quality, horses are individuals and cannot be replicated."

The man laughed. "But you could give me 35 times the money I paid for this one."

No, he could not. That horse was too expensive, he simply didn't have that much money and surely wouldn't want to lose it to a gambler. "Well... okay. I take this horse at the price you paid this morning." The man put his signature under the contract as "seller". Erik would just have to fill in his name as the new owner.

"Fine." The man went to the roulette table and said: "Number 13."

The croupier looked at Erik questioningly, since that man hadn't placed money on the table. Erik went to him and whispered in the croupier's ear: "He bets a racing horse on the 13. Time for magic!" The croupier had worked in the cellar-casino long enough to know how to operate the special roulette table with the hidden little magnets to direct the silver metal ball. It would land anywhere but the 13 now.

Erik was nervous. He didn't understand the thrill it gave gamblers to bet and wait for the result - he found it horrible even if he knew the intended result but the croupier might botch it, in which case he would be in serious trouble. He couldn't risk an angry gambler going to complain to the authorities now. He felt sick. Why had he agreed to this stupid bet, why was he again taking a completely unnecessary risk to win a racehorse he didn't need and that had never placed among the top three, in no race. He knew better than to take such stupid, reckless gambles!

26.

Erik fought hard not to laugh. The croupier was giving him an amused smile. He knew his masked boss understood the hint: this croupier was working the mechanism with astonishing precision. Erik just nodded and put the papers in his pocket, wondering what he would to with a well-bred race stallion.

The man who had just lost his racehorse argued that he wanted to go on playing. "Sir, with all due respect, you have nothing to bet now," the croupier refused.

"How dare you question my honor!" the man was furious, "I'm a rich man, of course I can pay what's due!"

Well, if he kept gambling at this ridiculous high stakes he would be broke within an hour. "No," Erik decided, "I do not let anyone play on credit. Never. Come back with money or leave it be."

"O yes, I'll be back soon!" the man seemed eager to get more money so he could go on gambling.

"Doesn't it bother you that you already lost the racehorse?" Erik asked, curious why this man wanted to go on after he lost all his money and his horse.

"I cannot lose," the man replied. Erik bit his lip, trying not to laugh as he showed the man to the door. Cannot lose? He had lost.

"Why do you think so?" Erik asked, trying to figure out some reason why this man would not see that he had lost everything.

"You see, as a casino owner you of course think different, but... it is you who cannot win. I have a system."

"System?"

"Yes, I always double the stakes. So when I win - and I'm sure to win the next time - I do not only get back everything but I will be twice as rich as before."

Or lose everything. To Erik this system didn't sound logical in any way because it would only work if that man would win some day - and then stop and not go on gambling and lose everything he won withing few hours. Erik would never understand gamblers. They always thought they could somehow control the game like wearing lucky charms or saying special words or doing certain movements. It was absolutely ridiculous. Their capacity for logic seemed to be off and they were in a mad gambling frenzy that reminded him of the ravings of a drug addict in withdrawal - or during a binge. Whatever.

"Come back when you have the money in cash," Erik sighed as he shoved the man out and ordered one of the guards to take him to the train station.

Erik went home and found Tony lying on the floor in tears. The black maid tried in vain to comfort him. Meg and Antoinette were nowhere to be seen, they likely were at the variety for the early afternoon staging of the fairy-dance.

"Tony, what happened?" Erik asked worriedly and picked up his crying child from the floor.

Tony flung his arms around his father's neck and cried out: "I want to die!"

"O Tony... tell me what happened?" Erik sighed, not knowing what to make of his child's outburst but Tony was crying to hard to answer.

The black maid provided the information. Tony had gone to the stable to fetch his old mare and found her dead. "O Tony..." Erik sighed, "You know she was old and her legs often gave her trouble. Now she's in heaven and there she can play on a green field all day long and does not have to work. She's much happier there than here."

"Then I want to go there too!" Tony exclaimed, "I want to be dead too and forever together with her!"

"Yes, I understand. But you are so very young, you cannot die now." Erik put his son down on one of the chairs, noticing that his parlor had only chairs and a crude makeshift-table. He would need a settee eventually. "Sit there. Now look at me." He took his son's tiny hands. "Tony, please, listen to me. I know it is sad that she's no longer here, but it is not a final farewell. She's waiting for you in heaven and when you die, hopefully as a very old man, you'll see her again."

"But I want her now!"

"I know, Tony." Erik gently took his child in his arms and placed him on his lap so he could hold him closer. "My dear child, I know. It is hard and you miss her. But Tony, it is all in God's hands. He has a task for you here on earth, that's why you have to stay alive until he decides to take you to heaven." Erik wondered briefly why he was telling the same stories most parents told their children. Maybe because it was just so very easy to blame an invisible god and not come up with any explanation for what he himself didn't understand?

"But what task? I'm good for nothing!"

"Don't say that, Tony. You are my son. You are such a clever, talented, beautiful boy, I love you so very much, you are so dutiful and diligent - do you really think I could ever run this amusement park without your help? I would die without you." It was true, the mere thought of losing Tony nearly gave him a heart attack.

When Meg came home after her dancing show she found her husband and her child lying on the carpet in the parlor, holding each other tight, both silently crying.

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 _Next chapter will be up next week. Sorry, right now I'm too busy, I can only finish one chapter a week._


	63. Tony's Sixth Birthday

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Tony's Sixth Birthday**

Erik had decided to make Tony's sixth birthday something special because he knew his son was still grieving the loss of the old mare. So he had taken the day off together with Meg and decided to visit another amusement park.

"Daddy, why do they have a western show with cowboys and indians and cavalry?" Tony asked as they sat in one of the boxes. Erik had decided that if he would visit another amusement park he could easily let his new found social skills play and ask for a favor. His colleague had agreed to give him a box for the western show for free when Erik had told him it was for his son's birthday. Of course Erik had promised he would return the favor and invite the other family to one of his magic shows that became less and less for Erik had decided that one show a week was enough given the amount of work he had to do. "Why don't we have a western-show?"

Erik sighed and watched his son who was happily nibbling candies from a small paper bag. Meg sometimes reached into the bag too to have a candy. "Because, my son, in the meeting we businessmen agreed not to have too much competition. You see, if there were two western-shows every show would attract only half of the audience. So we agreed that each amusement park would have its own theme. This one here is the Wild Wild West. Then there Secrets of the Orient and so on. My park is dedicated to science and magic and music."

"But the other's too have music?"

"But not like my music! They have... nice noises. I try to have real music as often as possible."

"Hey, look, daddy! The cowboy is doing my rope tricks!"

Erik sighed. The tricks looked similar, right, but of course they were common rope tricks and since Squelch had taught Tony to play cowboy - so other cowboys would know these tricks too. "But he is not nearly as precise as you are. You can snatch a flute from my lips without me noticing it," he comforted his son.

"The indian riders are really good," Tony exclaimed, "Look! Look, daddy, he's shooting with the arrow in full gallop!" Tony clapped his hands in excitement.

* * *

After the riding show Erik found himself in the uncomfortable situation that he had to leave the place together with the other amusement seeking families. He knew most of them would recognize him. But what could he do? Go without a mask? Deny Tony his birthday wish? He clenched his teeth and forced himself to put on a happy smile, trying to look like any other father enjoying a nice day with his family. Meg was definitely better in faking a smile, or could it be that she really enjoyed this?

Erik had a hard time making his way through the crowd, trying to get to their next stop as soon as possible without having to tell hundreds of people that yes, he was the masked magician and no, he was not giving a show for this was his son's birthday and he promised to spend the whole day with his child. This won him the hearts of more women than he could possible imagine. To him, they were just like mosquitos - most annoying.

Their next stop was a tailor's shop. "But I am dressed!" Tony protested, he hated measuring and fitting and if it was up to him he would run around in too large second-hand-clothes all day long.

"But not fitting for a horse race," Erik replied.

"A horse race? Daddy, are you really taking me to a horse race?" Tony had been getting on Erik's nerves for months with questions about horse races. Erik had silently sworn to kill the bastard who carelessly awoke Tony's interest in horse races - until he had learned that it had been Squelch and he doubted he would have the strength to wring the strongman's neck.

"Of course, my son. A promise is a promise."

Meg was trailing behind them grinning happily. She was not sure if it was Erik educating Tony or Tony educating Erik. At least around Tony Erik was able to control himself and behave like a father would when trying to be a good role-model for his son. Which included keeping promises, behaving well, avoiding to drink or smoke and everything worse, eating up his plate at dinner... Yes, Tony definitely had a very positive effect on Erik.

When they entered the shop, Tony's annoyance about having to get dressed in elegant clothing - which meant he was forbidden to run, to ride, to get himself dirty, to play and would have to behave like a perfect gentleman - was suddenly forgotten as he saw the suit that waited for him. It was a formal suit with long trousers. Tony danced around his father happily, thanking him again and again. He would wear long pants from now on, meaning he was a grown up man now. Meg found it was far too soon for Tony, but Erik laughed her worries off telling her women wouldn't understand that.

Tony looked wonderful in his new suit. Even his mother could not deny that the child looked like the most beautiful gentleman she had ever seen - because Tony seemed to come after his mother and would not grow much higher than she was. Meg seldom wondered if it had been the right decision to raise Tony as a boy, but right now she did. The child would grow up eventually and even if he was convinced to be just a man with a little easily hidden deformity his body would finally be that of a woman - and then? What if he fell in love eventually? But right now Tony was just excited.

It was almost laughable as Tony decided that he would take his mother to the horse racing circle and Erik would have to walk behind them. "I'm her gentleman today!" he decided.

They went to a special box at the grand stand. "This is my father's private box. He's the owner of a racehorse!" Tony informed the ticket inspector proudly.

"A, young Mr. Y," the ticket inspector gave a bow and smiled, "Yes, I know. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Erik winked at the ticket inspector and gave him a generous tip. He knew this would ensure that the ticket inspector would treat Tony like he was a grown up gentleman and not a six years old boy.

In the box were wooden chairs and a coffee table. On that coffee table was a plate with cookies, a teapot and cups. "Wow. Is this how gentlemen enjoy the horse-race?" Tony asked, trying to climb on the handrail. Erik snatched him and carried him to the chairs.

"Sit down, Mr. Tony Y," he instructed, "Gentlemen don't climb on handrails."

"But I want to see the horses!"

"You will, Tony. It is like in the theater, isn't it? We are high up in the boxes above the riffraff who stand in the mud close to the racing course. They see only when the horses pass them, we can see the whole course from up here. And..." he produced two opera glasses and held one out to the child: "This is yours. Be careful, you won't get another one soon. With this you can see the details."

"O wow! Daddy, I can't see Chocolate!"

"That's because he's not in the first race this afternoon. He's in the third."

"Chocolate?" Meg hissed, "Why did you keep that horse? It does not win, it is always somewhere in the middle field and only costs money!"

"Shut up, woman! What do you understand of horses?"

Meg rolled her eyes. This was so typical of Erik - if he didn't like a question he made it look like she was stupid. And if that didn't work he would resort to telling her that this was nothing any woman would ever understand. No wonder Tony wanted to be a boy!

"Daddy, why does Chocolate not win?" Tony asked and Erik glared at Meg briefly before turning to his child.

"That is because... well, I'm not an expert in horses myself, but I've been told that Chocolate is... too good-natured. He lacks the spirit to win. Chocolate has the character of a perfect riding horse, calm and composed and very friendly. But racehorses have to be spirited, fiery, a bit aggressive. And his jockey, Nathan, is a really good man when it comes to handling horses, but he is too soft-hearted, he doesn't use the whip as he should. Nathan would be perfect for a jumpy horse to calm it down, Chocolate would need a rider who has the right spirit - a fierce determination to win, an iron will and a fiery fighting spirit. I'm sure then he would win. When he runs you have to look at his well-muscled back and his long legs. With his height and strength he could win - if only he or the jockey had the will to win."

Meg filled tea in their cups. "I ask again: Why don't you give him away or use him as a riding horse?"

"Because, Madame Meg Y, every self-respecting wealthy businessman has a racing horse."

"Only this self-respecting businessman isn't that wealthy. You still owe the Vicomte de Chagny one hundred thousand dollars. I'm ashamed every time I get a letter from Christine because I have to write back and cannot tell her when you ever consider paying back that debt," Meg complained under her breath. Erik pretended not to have heard her.

Erik even took Tony to see Chocolate. Meg wasn't happy. She had to walk with her elegant shoes and her floor-length elegant dress in the sand that was mixed with urine and horse dung. She could not avoid getting shoes, stockings and dress dirty - or she would have to lift the skirts at least to her knees, which was absolutely impossible now. She almost laughed about herself - in the Can-Can on stage she certainly did show her legs, much more than just to her knees, but now she was reluctant to lift the fabric of her dress over her ankles.

Erik and Tony got their shoes and trousers dirty as well, but they didn't mind - and their shoes were far better for walking uneven ground than her's. At least they didn't get stuck every so often. Right now she understood why Tony preferred to be a boy.

While Meg found the gigantic stallion terrifying Tony was happy. He went to the horse and touched his soft sweaty coat, gently stroking him. As the jokey Nathan began to brush off Chocolate, Tony grabbed a brush and helped him. "He's so soft!" the child exclaimed happily. The large stallion was an English Thoroughbred horse, he was too tall for a horse of his race, he was hands-high 1,80m. Erik wondered how the small jockey would climb onto the back of this stallion - he himself might get in trouble. He decided never to try to ride Chocolate for it would be too embarrassing if he couldn't mount him. But Erik was definitely feeling his age, he wasn't as strong as he had been once and far too often his back and his joints gave a short but painful warning that he was growing old.

Chocolate was curious and gently nibbled on Tony's shoulder. Tony reached into his pocket and fed the stallion a cookie he had taken from the box. The stallion patiently endured the child's enthusiastic attention, he seemed to even enjoy it. When Tony asked if he could help cleaning the hooves even Erik said no, afraid the horse might hurt his son, but Nathan told him that this horse was gentle as a lamb. He really was for as Tony bent down, the hoof pick in his hand, and said: "Chocolate, hoof!" the horse obediently lifted his large hooves one after the other and endured the child's clumsy attempt to clean the hooves.

Erik allowed Tony to sit on Chocolate as Nathan led the horse by the reins to calm him down after the race. Tony was so very happy, he immediately loved the gentle stallion, Erik informed Meg that no matter what she said he would keep that horse.

"Then at least have him gelded and give him to Tony as normal horse and stop wasting money you don't have to pamper this never winning racehorse!" Meg sighed. She almost laughed at the shocked expression on her husband's face at the word "gelded". Well, which man likes it if his wife talks about castration?

It was a perfect birthday for Tony. He was so very happy as they went home, he had spent the whole day with both parents and had been riding on a real racehorse. He could not be more proud feeling like an adult man now in his crumpled and sweat soaked suit with long pants! Tony offered his mother his arm, proudly leading her like a gentleman would - as much as this was possible given their difference in height - and Erik walked beside them. Erik felt - maybe for the first time in his life - really happy. It was not bittersweet happiness like when he had received his first kiss from Christine, no, it was something different. Something more calm. He felt content, not wanting for anything but what he had right now. For once he was able to enjoy the moment without thinking of anything else.

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	64. Unlucky at Cards, Lucky in Love

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Unlucky at Cards, Lucky in Love**

Meg was happy with the change in her husband. Erik was much calmer than before, he did his work and even began giving tasks to other people to decide themselves so he had more time for something else - like caring for his basic needs like eating and sleeping, which he had neglected far too long. At first he hated to have to trust anyone to do everything alone but with the size of the theme park and Erik certainly feeling his age he found that he had to chose either to take drugs again only to be able to go on working or to trust other people - especially those who had already proven themselves - and get the rest he needed to survive.

With more rest - either in his music room playing the piano or the violin or in his library reading a book - he became more patient than before. For Meg this was a very good sign, especially because he didn't raise his hand against her or her mother - even if they had one of their inevitable quarrels - or against Tony. But Tony sometimes "was begging for a good trashing" as Erik put it when the child deliberately tested his parents patience disobeying their orders no matter what. Usually it was Erik who lost his temper first and put the child in line swiftly and painfully. Not that he would ever injure his own child, no, but he didn't consider bruises "injuries". It worked. After a few slaps Tony usually was a good obedient child for some days before the circle started anew.

Shortly before Christmas Erik decided to host a poker tournament. Truth was, he needed the money. He had already bought landed property close to his park where he wanted to build the blocks of flats for his favored employees and friends - the freaks and the musicians and "Uncle Shark" as Tony cold the old man now - and that had cost him much more than he had calculated. He had the money to pay - but now he found he should have been more careful. His stable was full of horses and ponies - plus one racehorse - and he had too many employees he had to pay through the winter now. Even with most of the park closed down there was so much to work, he simply could no longer afford to let most of the workers go. He needed them. Not all of them, of course, but the number of people he needed to stay through the winter was constantly growing. And of course he wanted to begin building the blocks of flats in spring, meaning he needed money for the workers and the materials.

Meg and her mother hated the idea like they hated everything happening in the dark area of the amusement park. "Illegal gambling, Erik, do you want to go to jail for this?" his mother-in-law rebuked him.

"Gambling is a game of luck. If **I** play, luck has nothing to do with it!" Erik silenced her angrily. He had a plan like the magician he was.

It was a game of high stakes poker, meaning only wealthy gamblers would be welcome. Of course the - literally - underground casino was lavishly decorated - Meg noticed that everything was just painting and stage-props, not one thing was really valuable, they were all just made to look like they were - and resembled a noble restaurant. There were many tables and only the winners of each table would be allowed to the final game. Erik himself would not only host the tournament but participate. Therefor he needed much training with his assistants. Meg was shocked to learn how many assistants he really placed in that room, most of them female, dancers and whores, and some male, mostly waiters. He taught them to take a place where they could see a player's cards and then how to give him small signals to tell him what cards the other one had. At the same time Erik practiced to shuffle the cards. He used up three card decks withing few weeks to practice. This was a much larger act than anyone had ever thought. Meg wondered how Erik could possibly ensure the loyalty of so many people but soon noticed that he placed the most trustworthy person on the most critical position: Meg. Meg was to be the main informant for him.

* * *

Antoinette Giry hated the whole idea. "Isn't it enough risk to have an illegal casino?" she scoffed, "Do you have to rub that in everyone's faces?"

Erik shrugged it off. "With all I know about politicians spending holidays in my hotel? What the maids tell me what they have to clean up? Do you really think anyone of them would risk me being arrested and talking about what I know?"

"I don't like that you are cheating!" she hissed.

"Would you prefer me to declare bankruptcy?" Erik tried not to yell, but he was sure his wife who was in the next room overheard them anyways.

"Stop exaggerating! If you wanted to you could find a legal way!"

"Since when do you care about legal ways?" Erik mocked, "May I remind you who exactly was the Phantom's right hand woman? What I did then was perfectly legal, I guess. One wonders why we had to leave France at all if we were such a wonderful, law-abiding team?"

Antoinette sucked in a breath, expressing her annoyance. "We were no team! You forced me!"

"Really? You were quite eager to help when I asked you. And you certainly didn't need much persuasion to accept the money!"

Meg sighed. The usual quarrel between Erik and her mother. They just couldn't let go of the past and continued to quarrel about things that were long forgotten by everyone else. Why couldn't they let bygones be bygones?

* * *

The day of the poker tournament came soon. Meg noticed the change in Erik - he was extremely nervous and irritable. He suffered the usual fits of stage fright, especially because he had never worked with so many assistants and every assistant was a potential risk for failure in his eyes. But less assistants would give away the scheme - he needed many people to give him hints or other men might eventually notice and expose his cheating.

Meg was the only one who knew of his many fears, his sleepless nights, the loss of appetite, sickness, cold sweat and rapid heartbeat. Erik seemed to suffer these symptoms only at night when he was alone - and this time instead of taking pills to suppress the anxiety he turned to her and asked her to stay with him at night. At daytime he didn't show any of these panic attacks. To Erik this was perfectly normal: he instinctively never showed weakness around others. Only when he allowed himself to relax - which he could only do when alone or only surrounded by people he trusted - his feelings reached the surface and plagued him. Meg was glad tried to cope with his fear without seeking relief in a bottle or in drugs. But sometimes, when he was trembling and sweating and his eyes were wide with fear - much like the panicked eyes of a fatally wounded horse - and there was nothing she could do than lie beside him and hold his hand she was tempted to give him the damned pills just to stop his suffering.

It was quite a spectacle for very few men. Meg noticed that they were at least six times more employees as customers in the lavishly decorated cellar. But only the waiters were recognizable as employees, the ladies seemed to be there just for fun to watch the game, some seemed to be just accompanying their husband or lover. Four of the participants - excluding Erik - were in his employ and were to lose in the first round. The were just there as mere distraction to inflame the excitement of the gamblers. Winning one game made them reckless, Erik knew that from observation, so they would take even higher stakes. The whole thing was just another one of his magic shows and he really wondered why his customers who knew him as the masked magician - he even made jokes about that - would agree to play cards with him.

They were served expensive drinks and food, cigars and even drugs, should they want some. Erik wasn't going to risk them not gambling away whatever they had brought to this tournament.

Of course there was a notary public with his secretary. This would be necessary if someone would want to bet something other than money. Most gamblers eventually found money less thrilling than placing a more interesting bet - especially in poker games. Highly illegal, of course, but that made the whole game even more attractive for a certain kind of gamblers. That - and the profligate women who were there. They were prostitutes or dancers from the adult shows, used to putting their bodies shamelessly on display and sleeping with men for money or expensive "gifts". One was dressed as "Fortuna", wearing something like a Roman toga which revealed one of her breasts to distract the men further.

Meg was dressed in black, much like her mother usually was, and wore a black wig. She wondered why she had to wear that, looking like a nun among the flimsy dressed girls. Was Erik jealous or did he just want her to be overlooked so she could give him her signals easier?

The first rounds were quite unimpressive and went as Erik had anticipated. Only in the final game he wanted the men t make really crazy bets. Until then they would have consumed enough appetizers and gone into a gambling frenzy so he could beguile them to place the most reckless bets.

It worked, even if some gamblers were clever enough to back out once the stakes became too high for them - some leaving the game with handsome profit. But there was one man who had caught Erik's interest in the first round, a young rich man gambling absolutely recklessly. Erik knew this was the perfect victim for his scheme, so he placed that man on a table with the false gamblers who were in truth his employees - most of them usually working in the casino anyways - to make sure that one would be in the final round.

Erik had taken off his jacket and played with his sleeves rolled up, trying to demonstrate that he would of course not cheat despite being a magician. And of course he was never the one to shuffle the cards, thus making it impossible for him to secretly exchange the cards or bring them in a certain order instead of shuffling them. He even lost some of the games or backed out. It was easy to know when to back out when his helpers signaled him which player had which cards in his hand. He still wondered why no one of the other card players suspected him to be cheating. It was obvious, wasn't it - it was his not legal casino and everyone knew him as the mysterious masked magician! How could anyone be so stupid to assume he would not cheat now? Because he had his sleeves rolled up?

Meg noticed how nervous Erik was because now the critical last game would begin. They were five men on the table, the other card players who had lost in the previous round were watching, drinking wine and flirting with the whores. Erik was watching the girl playing "Fortuna" carefully. She was shuffling the cards, laughing and flirting with everyone in the room. Erik had to force his gaze to her hands and the cards. It was tempting to look at her bare breast. His trick worked too well, even on him, who had not consumed alcohol or drugs but had grape juice in a wine glass to pretend to be drinking too.

Fortuna - obviously already tipsy from too much wine - dropped the cards and laughed as the players helped her to collect them again. This was a critical phase. Of course the girl was perfectly sober for she knew how important her part was and thought of the payment she would receive for her services: a fund for her son's education if everything worked according to plan. While the others helped to pick up the cards she exchanged them against the well-prepared card deck she had hidden in her wide toga.

Meg took her position without attracting attention because the girls in flimsy dresses distracted the men. She kept her eyes on Erik who tried to pretend he was enjoying the game. He wasn't and that was obvious to everyone. He smiled, but his smile was more a display of his bared teeth. He was close to panic because he couldn't control the cards shuffling himself and even if he knew how desperately this whore wanted the funds to ensure a good education for her son, she could always make a mistake.

The game began and the noise in the room increased as planned. Erik couldn't suppress a brief smile as he noticed that he had the right cards in his hands - a royal straight flush. The trick worked. He controlled himself and glanced to Meg who was secretly signaling him the hands of the other players. All of them had quite good cards, especially Erik's intended main victim. He had a straight flush, making him almost invincible.

They started with 200 Dollar. That was much, for some working class women and children this was as much as they could earn in a year. The players put the money on the table. Far too soon the game got out of hand with ridiculous bets. Erik had to fight hard not to be caught in his own snare as he himself found he could not withstand the excitement of gambling and knowing he could not loose and the thrill of not being entirely sure that all tricks had worked and he had read every signal correctly. There was a risk, but right now he noticed that he got carried away and had to remind himself of the risks involved so he ought to keep a cool head.

"No fair!" the gambler left to Erik complained, "How can you bet a racehorse? I don't have one!"

"You could always bet something else of equal worth," Erik replied, enjoying this. He knew Tony would hate him if he lost Chocolate, but with a royal straight flush how could he lose?

The game became more and more crazy as the gambling frenzy escalated. Even Erik couldn't help feeling the thrilling excitement now, he had to work against that, had to remind himself of the risks involved and that he stood to lose everything if the slightest mistake happened.

"A night with my wife," one gambler offered and Erik was tempted to say accept the bet and raise the stakes to even more time when an icy glare from Meg stopped him. Meg in her black dress with the black wig looked much like her mother, the stern, unforgiving ballet-mistress to whom perfection was barely good enough.

"No... house rules is that you can bet only things you either have with you or a written contract to turn them over immediately," he said uncomfortably shifting in his chair, "So either you have a written letter from your wife that she agrees to this or you bet something else." He could have said that gambling about humans was not allowed but he wasn't sure if this would go well in America. Slavery had only recently been outlawed and there still were people who would have loved to permit slavery again. Erik's strict rule was to stay out of any politics. He did not allow himself the luxury of any political opinion, he had more pressing issues to care about.

"I'm out" the first gambler gave up. Obviously he had realized that the risk was too much for him now and decided to accept the immense loss to avoid losing more.

Finally they were only two. Erik and his intended victim. Erik felt sick, he knew if anyone would find out he was cheating now he would be in trouble. He took a sip from a glass of drinking-water, trying to keep whatever was in his stomach down, which wasn't easy now. He didn't like the game, he hated the risks - even if they were minimal now thanks to his tricks - he hated knowing how much could go wrong now when victory was within his reach. He know he was making a mistake letting his nervousness show, but he couldn't help himself, he knew he was pale and cold sweat showed on his face, he knew his feet were constantly tapping as if he was trying to keep a beat. Worst of all his stomach told him that the air in that room was terrible and he would soon be sick.

"Mr. Y, it seems it is just the two of us," the other man smiled with high self-confidence and lit his umpteenth cigarette, blowing the smoke in the air. Erik coughed and felt tears welling up in his eyes. Too much smoke, far too much! Especially because not one but almost every man in the room and scandalously many women were smoking. He could only nod.

The other one must have mistaken his body language for nervousness boarding on panic - which wasn't entirely wrong - and deduced that Erik didn't have good cards on his hand.

"So... All in!" the other one challenged, sure that he would win, and placed a leather folder with papers on the table. " **All I have** ," he said, sure that Erik would back out now and accept that he lost his horse and half of his amusement park among other, less important, things.

"All I have," Erik whispered and threw a bunch of papers on the table, "And now I want to see."

The other one allowed himself a grin as he presented his cards. A straight flush. Erik couldn't enjoy his victory, he had to concentrate on keeping his stomach from turning - and from coughing which would end any attempt to keep his dignity intact.

The smile on the other man's face vanished and he turned almost grey-green as he saw Erik's cards. Erik didn't look much better now. "My thanks to the participants. Seems I won."

Of course there was a discussion if Erik had cheated but no one could actually prove it - he hadn't used a false card deck, he had never shuffled the cards, he had his sleeves rolled up so he couldn't have extra cards hidden somewhere and his hands were always on the table where everyone could see them.

"Sir, if you please..." Erik said and signaled the notary to do his job now, struggling to hold back the cough.

The notary public took over now, taking the papers. The contracts were enforcable because they didn't mention the gamble, just the previous owner and the buyer and including that the price had already been paid.

Erik tried to leave in a hurry, no longer able to control himself. He didn't make it to the door, just behind the bar and had to use one of the dust bins where the waiters usually disposed of shattered glass as the painful cough resulted in his stomach heaving.

"It is common that the loser breaks down..." Meg informed him, handing him a glass of drinking water.

He accepted the water gratefully and gave her an awkward smile. "I'm not good at this," he confessed, "I hope I'll never have to do that again."

Of course there was a discussion if Erik had cheated or not. But when one man spoke that too loud for Erik's tastes he stepped up to him and asked him if he had any prove or would accept a challenge to a duel for he, Erik, was certainly willing to defend his honor. No one dared to risk a fight, much to Erik's surprise. He had been prepared to have to defend himself in a duel now, but obviously gamblers were risk-shy when it came to their life.

* * *

The following days Erik was quite busy to go through the papers and find out what he now owned and he did it together with Meg. They sat in his office, reading the various contracts. "Erik... that 'all I have' was a shipping company!" Meg exclaimed.

"A... what?" Erik hadn't thought anyone would really be stupid enough to gamble away everything he had, but then, he himself had risked his amusement park - the only source of income he currently had for the textile factory was just financing the orphanage.

"We are rich!" Meg exclaimed happily, "Erik, we have a shipping company, two blocks of flats in New York, three inns, one automobile and 30% shares of a stud breeding Quarter horses and Morgan horses."

"We are rich..." he whispered, but he didn't feel good. He watched his wife dancing around in his office happily and asked himself what he had done to her - she had been a good girl, not a pure angel like Christine, but a decent girl, and now she was quite happy after participating in his fraud for the poker tournament had been a clever fraud. He didn't feel guilty for committing this crime, the gamblers would have gambled away their fortune anyways sooner or later, but for corrupting Meg. He shouldn't have done that.

"Yes, my dear, we are rich," he said, forcing himself to smile as he opened his arms. Meg almost jumped in his arms, allowing him to lift her like a dancer would on stage - and both ended up on the floor.

"Ouch," she complained, "I thought you still knew how to do that."

"I do, my backbone doesn't," he groaned, trying to push himself up, "You **did** put on weight."

"You shouldn't spend so much time sitting and more practicing then you would be stronger," she teased and offered her hand to help him to his feet. He didn't like it, but he found he really needed her help because every little twist hurt like hell in his spine.

"I have to do much administration work," he explained and winced as he bend down to retrieve some papers he had dropped, "But I guess now I can hire more bookkeepers, more secretaries and other staff. As you see, my dear, we are **creme** **de** **la** **creme** now! Do you want more dresses? Real jewelry and not this false ones? Maybe..." he looked at their hands, "Golden wedding bands instead of these silver ones?"

Meg looked at her hand thinking about it. "No... I like the silver ring. I want to keep them. They will always remind us of the troubles we faced before we came to the top where we are now." He didn't reply, he couldn't. There was a lump in his throat he just couldn't swallow. In this moment he felt that they had formed a bond he hadn't thought possible before - not like a romantic marriage, more like two soldiers in a war who found themselves the sole survivors or a terrible battle. Yes, he fell in love that moment, even if he was unable to say it.

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 _The next chapter will be up next week. I cannot promise to finish it sooner. Thank you for your patience._

 _Please review! I always appreciate reviews!_


	65. Unlucky at Cards, Lucky in Love (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Unlucky at Cards, Lucky in Love (cont.)**

Erik did face some consequences - the rich and powerful family clans didn't like that he had swindled their sons of much of their families property and they hired lawyers to put him under pressure. Erik didn't react like he usually would, fighting for each and every dollar. He knew that he was no match for them, they would either win in civil litigation or try to use their political influence to take revenge. He didn't want to risk that, so he sat with his most trusted friends - among them Meg and her mother - to discuss what to do now.

"They know that there is a certain risk, so I guess if I offer to give half of their property back they certainly will agree. I even got an offer stating they would buy the houses back at half of the actual worth," he informed them, "So what do you think? Can I risk a years-long fight or would it be better to give up one half to one-third of the profit to get out of this again?"

"I say give it back - it was a fraud anyways so you should be happy to get away with one third of what you got," Antoinette sighed, "What do you think Tony would say if he ever learned that his father is a cardsharper?"

"Leave Tony out of this, mother!" Meg snapped angrily, "But I agree that you mustn't take too many risks. Maybe you can make a settlement with those who could be dangerous to you and keep the rest?"

Erik loved Meg's idea. "That's my girl!" he exclaimed, fondly caressing her hand, "You learned much over the years, didn't you?"

"I agree with Meg," Dr. Gängelmann said, "Let's find out who is really dangerous and who isn't."

"I think he should fight," Irene Fleck disagreed, "He could have all of it."

"I think he ought to make a fair settlement with all gamblers, no matter how dangerous they are - if you give back two third, then you ought to offer that to every gambler, not just to those who have the right friends in the right positions," Squelch cut in.

"I'm with Squelch," Antoinette Giry cut in, "I was against this whole scheme from the beginning!"

"Antoinette, with all due respect, but I decide to follow my wife's advise in this," Erik replied and he and Meg exchanged glances and grins no one but they fully understood.

"I don't like that you made my daughter your accomplice..."

"Guess who's talking..."

"Stop quarreling!" Dr. Gängelmann cut in, "We have lots of work before us, so I call the lawyer and then we try to get the right settlements. The sooner this is over the better."

Antoinette mumbled under her breath: "And maybe next time you pick your victims more carefully!"

"Was it worth the trouble?" Irene Fleck asked, "All the preparation, the extra payment for your assistants, was it really worth it?"

Erik grinned. "More than that. I never thought I would get half as much as I have now, even if I keep only one third of the winnings."

* * *

A week later Erik wondered why the one who had lost the most - the shipping company - didn't fright to get it back. Surely by now everyone knew that he was willing to make deals with the families to return their property for a certain amount of money? He laughed at himself, he was really getting old and mild. A few years ago he would have told his lawyer to fight them legally and at the same time he would have tried to attack them in another way, like making unfortunate accidents happen to keep everything. Now he thought that it was easier to make a deal with them that allowed him to keep at least parts of his winnings instead of making new enemies.

Of course, gambling debts can't be called in legal proceedings but are debts of honor. He did not really understand the rules of honor in society, but he understood very well that they obviously considered him too far beneath them to act honorably towards him. Well, let them. As far as he knew about gamblers they would eventually gamble it away again soon. The most twisted logic of gamblers was, to come back to him because they wanted to win back what they had given him. He was sure they would come back and he would get their money anyways if their families didn't do something about it like taking everything away from the gamblers before they would lose it.

He had a new hobby. The automobile he had won was something he could keep, the family being happy enough to have the house back. So he began dismantling it with the help of his son in one of his warehouses because he was sure he could improve it. They had so much fun searching tiny screws on the ground, Erik had never thought it possible to have so much fun dismantling something and creating a complete chaos.

Erik didn't like the open design of the car - he wanted it enclosed to be able to use it in bad weather as well. He decided to create a mix between automobile and luxury carriage, taking the automobile and parts of old carriages that were somehow broken and therefor cheap.

* * *

It was a cold winter day. Erik was in his office doing paperwork. The variety was full of people preparing for the next season, especially doing rehearsals. Someone knocked at the door.

"Door's open!" he called out without even looking up for it was likely a messenger from Antoinette or Vincent or the He-She for they might have some questions to the actual design of the show they were trying to create now.

It wasn't. It was a young brown-haired lady in red woolen dress. Erik got up as she came in and closed the door behind her. "Good evening," he greeted, wondering what she would ask of him, "If you are here for the audition, that was last week."

"No, I'm not here for the audition. I understand that... I have to talk to you, Mr. Y," she stated, uneasily playing with her handbag.

"About what?" He knew he wasn't really polite but he didn't have time for another unemployed actress who had not met Antoinette Giry's standards.

"My husband's shipping company."

Now that got Erik's interest. He moved to stand directly before her, looking down on her, trying to be intimidating. "You speak of **my** shipping company," he corrected her coldly.

The woman began to cry and Erik did not know what to do, so he just stood there and looked coldly, telling himself that women used tears only to manipulate men and he must not allow that. "He gambled away our house, our money and now the shipping company he inherited from his grandfather!" she sobbed, "Now we have nothing, literally nothing! My four children and I do not know where to go, how to survive now!"

"What's that to me?" Erik snapped angrily, "Complain to your husband."

The woman sank to her knees before him and lifted her face to look up at him pleadingly. Why do all women have to be so melodramatic? "Sir, I've heard that you do return parts of the winnings to other families. Sir, please, do the same to me. Please. I'm just a poor woman, no lawyer will hear me because I cannot pay... please, good sir, please, have mercy!"

He didn't want to hear her. "Why would I?" he replied coldly.

"Please... I'd do anything, anything at all..." she begged him, slowly edging closer to him on her knees until her face almost touched his hips. He shifted uncomfortably and retreated until he stood with his back to the wall. "Please, sir, I'd do everything..." She leaned forward as if to kiss the front of his trousers.

He didn't turn away, he stood as if frozen in place. This was not right, he should not take advantage of the desperate woman - but he could not help reacting to her offer. The mere thought of what she was going to do made him tremble in anticipation. He let out a sigh and placed his hand on her hair, looking down. That moment he saw the silver wedding band on his finger. "No!" he hissed aggressively, pushing her away from him, "You may be a harlot but I am a married man!"

The women stared at him in shock, lying on the floor where she had fallen. "I am not a harlot!" she exclaimed furiously, "I do that to ensure my children's future. My husband gambled everything away, what else could I do now? Think of it, sir, what would you want my husband to do had you lost the gamble and your wife was on her knees before him now."

He could imagine the picture far too well. Yes, it was entirely possible but he doubted that his wife would do that for him - she would first kill him and then try to do whatever necessary for Tony. Damn it. This harlot had managed to get to him somehow, to bring him to feel sympathy. He sighed. The state his body was in now made it difficult to think, his body told him to make good use of her offer - he might never again in his life have an upper class woman on her knees before him in that way. She was one of those women who thought him unworthy of their spit, who hated him most. But he felt a certain sympathy for her for he knew that it could have been the other way round - he had taken far too high risks in the past and most likely Meg would have ended up in a similar situation.

He held out his hand to help her to her feet. "No, Madame, you are just a mother fighting for her children," he stated, "And I will honor that. I will give back half of the company, but not to him, to you and I appoint you director."

"D...d...director? But I'm a woman..." she stammered.

"From what I've seen from your husband I guess you actually did run the business for the past five years and did a good job," Erik replied, forcing himself to look away from her, silently telling him not to look at her lips and her previous offer. "Go home," he snapped, "You'll get notice from my lawyer within a week."

The woman left in a hurry. Erik leaned back against the wall, struggling to control his breathing. It was hard to think right now when all he saw if he dared to close his eyes the face of a upper class woman kissing the front of his trousers. This was no good. He had made a mistake, literally giving away half a shipping company for free. The only excuse he had for this behavior was that he would need a good director of the company anyways for he knew nothing about shipping.

* * *

Erik took a deep breath and tried to ban every indecent thought from his mind. It was not easy. Maybe a walk would help him clear his thoughts. It was winter and the weather icy so yes, that might help him cooling down. He deliberately left his cloak and left the office, heading for the main entrance.

When he came closer to the stage he heard that the rehearsal was going on - accompanied by Antoinette Giry's commands. She was treating the dancers like a drill sergeant his soldiers. Erik smiled to himself because he knew he could rely on his mother in law to keep everyone in line. Curious how their roles had changed - now she was his vicious watchdog and he had to try to be the honorable businessman. Many of his employees found her much more intimidating than him and he couldn't even say that he disliked this. It was a completely knew experience to him.

He decided to go to the auditory and watch the show a bit. He took a place at one of the tables in the first row where he had the best view. They were rehearsing the cancan from his newest show "Night in Paris". "Night in Paris" was about a young aristocrat who would go to the opera to see classical ballet and then move on to other theaters to see other dances. It was a show that allowed Erik to include many dances. Meg loved it for it was a show entirely to display her skill as classical ballet dancer, it showed her that he actually was proud of her skill and wanted to show off. Of course it was for general view and not for adults, but some of the dances - especially the cancan - were on the verge of being considered indecent.

It it nothing to calm him down now. On the contrary, watching Meg dancing a cancan was the opposite of what he needed to clear his thoughts.

Meg noticed that Erik was there - which was a rare happening. Usually Erik hated rehearsals and left the details to the people in charge. It was difficult enough to get him to intervene if Vincent, the He-She and Antoinette Giry couldn't agree on a certain design of the stage, the costumes and the choreography. They had soon learned that it was easier to find some agreement than get Erik decide what was to be done. Erik usually refused to decide anything, complaining that he had more important tasks to do and he was already working himself to death so they could at least do their own jobs, he couldn't do their jobs as well. He had soon learned that with complaining for more than an hour he would get what he wanted - they would not ask again so soon. Anger didn't help that much, he didn't want to make threats he could not carry out or they would eventually stop taking his threats seriously.

When the dancing was over she went to the front of the stage, wanted to ask if he liked what he saw. Before she could open her mouth he jumped to his feet and commanded: "My office! Now!" Meg flinched, not knowing what she might have done to make him that angry. She hurried to follow him, she had to run to follow his long strides.

"What...?"

"Not now. My office!" he silenced her.

* * *

He opened the door and let her in. Meg wondered how he always managed to make a mess of his office, no matter how often someone tried to tidy it up. Maybe because Erik always tried to work at everything at the same time, to do all at once, he always created complete chaos. Maybe he needed the chaos to get into the right mood? It was a miracle but out of that chaos the best ideas somehow emerged.

Erik slammed the door shut and locked it. Meg shuddered, expecting him to yell at her, maybe even hit her now in his anger. And she still had no idea what she might have done wrong. But as soon as he turned to her, there was no anger in his eyes or his voice, on the contrary, he was more or less pleading. "Meg... I... I need you so much it hurts..."

Meg smiled. She had mistaken his feelings for anger. He was certainly not angry, the opposite was true now. There was no hate, it was love.

* * *

They were sitting on the couch in his office, Erik smiling at her with a warm glow in his eyes, Meg was correcting her hair. She smiled as she noticed the look on her husbands face - the uncovered part of it - and in his dark eyes.

"Thank you," he said in a low voice and edged closer, putting his arm around her shoulders to hold her, "I have to confess something..." he whispered in her hair. When she didn't answer he went on uncomfortably: "The wife of that unlucky card-player came to me and begged me to give their shipping company back."

"And what did you do?" Meg asked, wondering what Erik had to confess now.

"She didn't threaten to sue me or something like that. She tried to win my pity with a story about her poor starving children."

"But you, the merciless Mr. Y, threw her out?" Meg asked, wondering since when Erik felt guilty over another familie's fate.

"No... she tried to persuade me and finally I agreed to give **her** half of the company back and appoint her director of the company," Erik replied, holding Meg so she could not see him.

"How did she do this?" Meg didn't accuse him, she just asked. She had not really realized that Erik had given away half of a shipping company for nothing, she knew it but emotionally it was just to much to comprehend.

"She... offered certain pleasures..."

"And you withstood," Meg concluded proudly.

Erik released her, sitting back and staring at her confused. "How do you know?" he asked. He had certainly not given her much reason to trust him to be faithful to her.

Meg laughed. "If you hadn't, you wouldn't have... well, in your age it is normal that you need a few days to some weeks to recover."

"My age?!" he indignantly replied, not happy that she reminded him that he was old enough to be her father, old enough to be Tony's grandfather.

Meg cocked her head and gave him a highly amused grin. "For 'Don Juan Triumphant' you are a bit too old."

"That is **not** funny!" Erik snapped, irritated, "I am telling you that I gave away half a shipping company for nothing and all you do is mocking me because I'm old?"

"No, no, my dear husband," Meg caressed his arm, "I love to find that you are developing a conscience. I love that you are becoming mild in your old age."

"There - you did it again," he sighed, "I guess I have to get used to you calling me old."

"I'd say you have improved a lot!" Meg replied and gently kissed his unmasked cheek.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _I'm sorry, there will be just this one chapter this week. Next week I'm going to post the next chapter._


	66. Accepting Advise

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Accepting Advise**

While Meg took it exceptionally well that Erik had promised to give back half of the shipping company Antoinette Giry was more than furious when she learned of this. "What did you think?" she yelled at Erik, "Why did you give it away for nothing? She was no danger to you - she couldn't have paid a lawyer, she couldn't have done anything!"

"Mother, I thought you would appreciate Erik finding his conscience and taking pity in the poor woman and her children," Meg intervened.

"If he had any conscience he wouldn't have committed that fraud at all," Antoinette growled, "What's the matter with you, Erik? Losing your edge?"

"I'll never understand you, Antoinette! First you complain that I am cheating, then, when I decide to do 'damage repair' and give back two third or at least a half of what I got you complain about me not keeping everything. What do you want? Make up your mind or shut up and leave me in peace!"

"Leave you in peace to do what?" Antoinette demanded, "You do not have an appointment this afternoon!"

"I do. The most important appointment I ever had. With Mr. Tony Y - we are going to work on our car again. I'm sure we'll finish before the opening in spring."

While Meg found it absolutely adorable that Erik loved his son so much, it was Antoinette who complained that he was spoiling the child completely. She thought that in a family everyone had his or her role: the father had to be a stern patriarch, the mother loving and caring and the grandmother spoiling the children. She felt that Erik was cheating, he was spoiling Tony completely. Erik thought he was educating Tony just right, giving him as much knowledge as possible and teaching him to be his assistant in almost everything.

* * *

Erik was working at the car again, with the help of Tony, Squelch and Attamamma. Two strongpeople were just what he needed for he couldn't lift the car, they could, using a simple pulley.

"Daddy, why do you paint the car black?" Tony asked.

"Because every elegant carriage is black," Erik explained.

"I'd prefer a blue one," Tony complained, "Blue with sparkling white stars."

Erik laughed. "When you are able to build yourself a car you paint it in whatever color you like."

"Daddy, why is your theater called 'Sam Singer's Spectacular Show'?" Tony asked.

Erik flinched. That was one of the minor problems he had put somewhere at the end of his to-do-list. Obviously for... more than six years now, he realized as he looked at Tony. "Well... I didn't have time to re-name it," he admitted, "Any ideas?"

Tony beamed with pride. "Mr. Y & Son," he said, "That sounds great."

Erik had to laugh. "Yes, it does, but not for an amusement park. You see, serious business like the textile factory can be named like that, but the customers of an amusement park want a name that sounds somehow interesting, mysterious, larger-than-life."

"Okay, let me think!" Tony was overexcited of being asked to name his father's amusement park, "Magic-park?"

"I'm not so sure..." Erik replied, "Yes, we do have magic shows, but it isn't all magic."

"Music park? There is nothing without music here!"

Erik stared at his son, trying to understand what the child was telling him. It took him some time to realize that the child was right: Every fun-ride, every cafe, every restaurant, every exhibition and every bar had music and if it was tin-pan-tunes. There was nothing were no music could be played. Even at the beach when the weather allowed it some musicians would entertain the people there.

"Music is a main part, yes, but I do not want the customers to get a wrong impression... it is not just music."

Tony was thinking again, absently nibbling at the end of his paintbrush, leaving black enamel on his shirt.

Erik stopped painting the car and looked down at his child. "If you look around in the amusement park, what do you think?" he asked.

Tony shrugged helplessly, not understanding what Erik wanted to hear. Erik tried another approach: "If you would have to describe the amusement park to someone who has never been there, how would you do that?"

"It's fantastic!" Tony replied, "I would tell everyone that it is the most fantastic place in the world."

Erik smiled. He knew his son didn't know any other place in the world except Coney Island, so how could he know? But the child was right, telling everyone that it was the most fantastic place in the world would surely draw them in. The name itself had to be some kind of advertising. "Go on," he asked the child.

Tony started pacing - a habit he had either inherited from his father or was just imitating - when he was excited. Of course he was gesturing with the paintbrush, leaving black color everywhere, including his father's work-suit. "It is just great. You can do everything here, everything! It has a shark..."

Erik, Squelch and Attamamma burst into laughter. Yes, Tony and his love for sharks!

But Tony didn't even notice. He just went on: "No one can imagine what we have here unless one saw it. Everyone tells that. Everyone says this place surpasses the wildest fantasies!"

"Fantasy..." Erik mused, "Yes... a dream-world, belonging to the future, mixing magic with the art of engineering. But how can we put that in a name?"

"Fantasia?" Tony suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Erik replied cheerfully, proudly clapping his child's shoulder, "Okay, it is Fantasia then. Sounds good to me."

"I named the park! I named the park! I named the park!" Tony exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands, spraying black color everywhere and turning over the paint pot. Erik sighed. He wouldn't be able to finish the car that day.

* * *

Erik did go through with his promise to give back half of the shipping company. This required him, the gambler and his wife to meet a notary public to write and sign the necessary contracts. Of course Erik had his lawyer with him. Running a business required dealing with so many legal problems he just needed one. This lawyer lived on Erik's business alone, he didn't need another client.

"You can't do this," the notary informed Erik.

"What? Why can't I take a partner in my shipping company?" the masked man asked surprised.

"Nothing wrong with that, Mr. Y, but... she is a woman!" his lawyer informed him.

"No, really? She is a woman? I'm shocked!" Erik replied mockingly.

"This is not funny, Mr. Y. A woman is not allowed to to manage an estate," the notary lectured and the lawyer nodded, "A woman's property is managed by her husband."

Erik grunted in frustration. "O no, that is precisely what I do not want!"

"I agree," the woman said, giving her husband an icy glance, "He'd gamble it away like everything else."

"Shut up, woman, or you know what is happening when we are home!" the gambler hissed.

"Sir, I guess we have to discuss this," Erik addressed him directly, his tone threatening, "If I give the shares of the company to you and you suffer some unfortunate accident and die... what happens then?"

"His children would inherit everything and a trustee would be named to manage their assets until they attain one's majority," the notary public helpfully answered, deciding to take Erik's question just as a question and nothing else. The notary and the lawyer knew better than to cross Mr. Y.

"So... it seems we have one problem," Erik sighs, "But I think I have an idea how to solve this. I will not give you the shares."

"Not...? Mr. Y, you promised..." the woman is really shocked.

"No. I give it to your children. Are they boys or girls?"

"Both..."

"Well, the we do it like this: I keep all the shares and appoint you director of the company and you get half of the yearly profit as salary."

"Impossible!" the notary, the lawyer and the gambler exclaim in shock.

"You can't appoint a woman director of the company," the notary explains, "She might be an assistant, a secretary, but nothing more. No woman can ever work in a position that enables her to make major decisions. It is not allowed."

"So I have to be the manager and make her my assistant?" Erik hated when a good plan was completely useless because there was some stupid law blocking his path.

"Or you appoint her husband, the previous owner, director," the notary said, "He did run the company before."

"Did he?" Erik mocked, "Really? Gamble it away was all he did!"

"Sir, I will not sit here being insulted!" the man hissed, "Come!" he ordered his wife.

"You, sir, will sit down and hear whatever I have to say!" Erik did not need to roar. The quiet voice was even more threatening now.

"Or what? A duel?"

"You, sir, are not worth my spit. You are nothing but a gambler who does not know when to stop."

"Guess who's talking! It is not like you didn't make the same bet!"

Erik bit his lip before he would confess that he had been cheating. "That is the other side of the American dream, isn't it? Many people lose everything so one can live the dream..."

"Pease, we need him. Do not cross him now!" the woman pleads with her husband.

"How many ships has this shipping company?" Erik suddenly asks.

"What? I don't understand..." the gambler asked back.

"You, sir, understand perfectly. Tell me about the ships. Come on, you were running this company until a few weeks ago, surely you haven't forgotten everything!" Erik challenged him, "How many ships? Details of these ships?"

"This is ridiculous!

"Yes, it is. I guess your wife can easily answer this question. Nearly every correspondence of the company begins with 'My husband said...'. You do not even know that your company has eight ships, six of them large ocean steamers for cargo and passangers and two small steamers for pleasure cruises," Erik informs the man who is barely able to control his temper.

"Allright. If you are good enough to sign this permission for your wife to be my secretary, I'll give you a chance to win back what you lost. You may play at my casino for free with... let's say ten thousand dollars. You can win everything back you lost."

That did the trick. Erik almost laughed. It was as easy as pulling a lever of a well-build machine. Offer to gamble more, win back whatever they lost, and the gambler will sign everything. It was like an addiction. He understood addiction, but that did not stop him to use this knowledge to get what he wanted. On the contrary, he thought he was by far above normal gamblers, drunkards and drug addicts because he was a successful businessman and not some pitiful wreck in the gutter.

The gambler signed the permission, threw the paper at Erik's feet, grabbed the ticket for the casino and left, slamming the door with a bang.

"What was that?" asked the notary.

"A gambler in withdrawal," Erik sighed and the gambler's wife nodded sadly, "Now, back to business. I guess I will found a trust for the children for half or the company, with a lawyer and a notary as trustees, myself as director of the company and this lady as my secretary. Any objections?"

Suddenly the lawyer and the notary had absolutely no objections at all and discussed how to create a trust for the children so they would receive their fair share at their twentyfirst birthday. Again, it was like pulling a lever of a well-greased machine.

They spend hours discussing the details of the contracts and Erik soon was bored. He didn't understand the legal terms - other than the woman who seemed to know exactly what she was talking about - and wondered how he could possibly defend his decision before his mother in law. Meg was at his side in this, she absolutely loved that he would at least partly make up for his cheating, his mother in law was still nagging why he had done it in the first place when he felt guilty afterwards. Well, she was never satisfied with anything.

"Madame, tell me, can one of the pleasure cruise ships be adapted to... a swimming casino, variety and hotel?" he asked, remembering his earlier plan to move the casino to a ship to escape the strict law. He could close down the casino in his park then, which would be a good idea for then he would not have anything illegal in his park. Brothels and opium dens were not entirely outlawed, only gambling. Erik didn't even bother to think about the reason for this. He had long since accepted that most laws were just made without any logic explanation why they were needed.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Sorry for the long wait. I have been busy. Since I'm going on holiday next week I cannot promise that there will be at least one chapter, but I'll try my best._


	67. Failure

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Failure**

Another spring came and with it the chaos of season's opening and the beginning of the construction work for the new blocks of flats. Erik's friends - who had been suspicious he might not keep his word to have better flats for them now that he had the penthouse - were absolutely happy and reconciled with him. The leading team of the park consisted now of Erik as the owner and master here, Dr. Johann Gängelmann - whom Meg still called "Gangle" and who began to adopt that name as a stage-name - who had become Erik's right hand man much to Antoinette Giry's jealousy, said Antoinette Giry as ballet mistress and choreographer, Vincent as stage designer, the He-She as costume designer, Benny as librettist and writer for whatever texts they needed, including advertising, and Tony as everybody's darling with the most important task to keep his father from doing something foolish. As long as Tony was in the room Erik felt obliged to act as a good role model, which was a relief for everyone around him. The team had added two more people: Erik's chief bookkeeper Patric O'Sullivan and Erik's right hand woman when it came to the various musicians, Milly Monday, the black woman who was now somehow his first chair violinist, who had become a really good musician under Erik's strict rule over the orchestra.

* * *

The more work everyone had, the less time they had to care for Tony. Erik didn't worry much, he had appointed Squelch as Tony's babysitter and was sure the strongman was quite capable of protecting the child, sometimes even against Tony's will.

It bothered Meg to no end that Tony would not play with other children. There were plenty of children in various ages in the park - children of employees, children who had to earn money to support their families and worked there and of course upper class children as customers - but Tony avoided them like they had the plague. Not that he was not playing, no, he loved to play with his father, with Squelch and some others, but never with a child. Children his age were stupid in his eyes. In that he shared his father's contempt for people in general, but even Erik had learned that some people were worth the trouble befriending them. Tony's attitude towards children - even those who were older than him - bothered Meg. To her a normal child loved to play with other children and a child who didn't love to play was somewhat not right in his mind.

Erik didn't share her worries. "I never played with anyone and grew up just as fine," he snapped when she informed him that Tony preferred to read a book about horse-breeding to playing a ball game with other children.

"Maybe that's precisely what I am afraid of!" she retorted angrily.

"He's playing like every other child," Erik assured her, "Right now he learns about horse-breeding so he can play stud with Squelch. Tomorrow he plays bookkeeper and the day after that I promised that he can play manager of the variety."

"These are no child's games!" Meg sighed, "He is actually working."

"What's wrong with that?" Erik raised his eyebrows, "Were is the difference between playing Cowboy and playing manager of a theater?"

Meg groaned in frustration. With a husband like Erik life was never easy and he was surely not the right one to educate a child.

"Besides... Tony thinks he's too old to play shark poopoo. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"I liked playing shark poopoo," Erik replied with childlike innocence. Meg burst into laughter. Her husband, the man who stood sneering with contempt over everything he considered foolish, admitted that he liked playing with his child and actually missed the toddler's game once the child had grown too old for that.

* * *

The casino was closed down and the game tables moved to the ship. The smaller steamship was renamed Aphrodite Tyche - the greek godesses of love and good or bad fate - leaving no doubts that this ship was giving the term "pleasure cruise" a whole new meaning.

With so many new projects Erik was growing irritable und tired again. In the morning he could barely get up and at night he was so tensed up he could find no rest and was constantly busy working on something - at least he was considerate enough not to play music in the flat, this would have kept his family awake. If it was only for Antoinette Giry and Meg he might have used the piano at any time - but he did not want to wake his child. Sometimes he just went to Tony's room to watch the child sleeping. Whenever he felt like coming close to a point where he would use violence or just give up he turned to Tony for comfort. The child really helped him, it was his source of hope and joy. Erik did not think he would ever find peace and a good life for himself but the thought that his son would have the life he had been denied gave him so much strength and the will to go on despite all odds. He was definitely feeling his age now, he was no longer young enough to go on working for days without sleep, but he did his best to manage all his projects - even trusting others to do their job and leaving the details to them.

He swore he would try everything to protect his family from his black mood and short temper. He wanted to be a good father, not one whose child feared him. If he had to punish Tony he didn't want to do it out of anger, he wanted to do it calm and composed so he would measure the punishment fairly and without leaving marks on his child's body or soul that would scar him for the rest of his life. He would do everything - literally everything.

* * *

It was a Monday morning in May after a rather strenous weekend with too many magic shows for Erik's taste. He had stayed up all night after the shows working on a new idea for the Hall of Wonders - a device with an electromagnet that would allow someone who would stand on a board that had a strong magnetic metal attatched on the lower side to float in the air over the electromagnet. The problem was that to keep the board in the right position over the electromagnet. The only way to achive that was to use fastening rings and rods. Of course people might suspect that the mechanism would be in the rods, but when they would be allowed to inspect and touch the board, the rods and the rings they would know that their suspicion was wrong.

And no one would know of the electromagnet beneath the platform on which the floating board would be presented. Of course only people who did not wear metal on them would be allowed to try the floating board because metal chains or jewelrey or even pocket watches might give away that it worked with magnetism.

Meg had somehow managed to get Erik out of his bed but now he was sleeping in his chair instead of sharing the breakfast.

Tony suddenly exclaimed: "I want a candy box!"

Meg groaned. Tony loved sweets but she didn't like him to eat sweets all day and then skip the meals claiming to be sick. "No!" she told him, "Why do you think you should have a candy box at all? You were a nuisance in the last weeks!"

"But Daddy wasn't good either and he has candy boxes!" Tony argued.

"Tony!" Antoinette snapped angrily, "How often do I have to tell you not to make up stories!" She knew that Erik did not have any candy boxes - why would he? He didn't like sweets.

"Daddy has!" Tony insisted, "Tell them, Daddy! Daddy!" he tugged Erik's sleeve until Erik's eyes snapped open and he looked around confused, he had obviously been sound asleep and needed some time to find out where he was. "Tell them, Daddy!" Tony insisted.

"Tell whom what?" Erik yawned struggling to keep his eyes open.

"That you have candy boxes so you can eat candy whenever you like," Tony asked, impatiently tugging on Erik's sleeve again, turning over Erik's cup of coffee so the lukewarm coffee spilled on the table and Meg's dress.

"Tony! You have to sit still during every meal!" Meg shouted and slapped him. Tony didn't show much reaction to his mother's rebuke and the slap, he was too busy trying to wake his father.

"I do not have candy boxes," Erik yawned and settled back in his chair, dozing off again.

"Daddy!" Tony indignantly exclaimed and jumped to his feet, "I'll show you!"

He rushed to the Grand piano and opened the top board. "Tony, no!" Meg yelled, knowing that Erik had forbidden everyone to touch the piano, even the maid was not allowed to dust it. Erik was not fully awake but he was awake enough to turn round - and let out a scream as he saw Tony opening the top board but it was not so much out of anger but of fear.

"Here! I'm not making up anything!" Tony triumphantly told them, holding up two small metal boxes, "Daddy has candy boxes to eat whenever he likes to."

Erik sank back on his chair, his face white as a sheet. Meg and her mother too sat there frozen in place, staring at Tony who Held up the two metal boxes. They knew perfectly well that these were no candy boxes - these were Erik's pills he had sworn he would not take again!

"You must **never** eat that!" Erik breathed horrified.

"Don't worry - tastes absolutely horrible!" Tony replied cheerfully.

" **Doctor**!" Erik's panicked scream was loud enough to tell everyone in Coney Island that he needed a doctor, maybe everyone on the state of New York. Meg involuntarily checked if the windows were shattered from the pover of his voice.

* * *

Dr. Gängelmann came as soon as he could, expecting to find a catastrophy in the penthouse. Erik's panicked scream had been heard all over the park and the doctor was afraid he might find one of the family dead.

He saw Tony fidgeting on his chair, Erik kneeling before the child, trying to get him to tell him to tell which ones of the pills he took, from the red box or from the blue box? Meg and her mother were berating Erik for taking drugs again and being careless endangering Tony. They used a quite colorful language and if they would do only ten percent of what they threatened to do with him Erik better ought to take the next ship to leave America.

"What happened?" Dr. Gängelmann asked.

"Tony... he mistook my pills for candies..." Erik's voice was shaking and he looked like he might faint any moment now while the child looked rather happy and healthy.

"What pills?" the doctor asked.

"Cocaine against headache... and morphine pills to help me sleep in the night..." Erik confessed, every attempt to preserve his pride gone in his fear for his child's life.

Tony reached into his pocket and took out a tiny slobbery half-sucked cocaine pill. "I didn't like it. It is bitter."

Erik burst into hysterical laughter as the doctor began examining the child. Meg was crying and Antoinette alternately trying to comfort her daughter and cursing Erik in words that would make every sailor blush.

"Tony will be overexcited today," the doctor informs them, "Absolutely reckless and unreliable. You mustn't leave him alone today, but I think he'll survive without any permanent damage. That does not go for the father! Erik! You swore to everyone you would not take any drugs again! Do you see now just how foolish you were? This could have cost you your son's life, do you realize that?"

Erik was sitting on the floor, almost green in his face now. He had taken off mask and wig and opened his collar without even realizing he was doing that.

"Where did your hide the rest of your stock?" Joe asked.

"Rest?" Meg questioned horrified.

"Every drug addict has several hiding places for his drugs," the doctor informed them, "And you better give them up before your son finds every single one of them."

"Daddy has bottles behind his books," Tony said, "I'm not making this up! I'll show you!" Tony rushed to Erik's library and climbed up the shelves. The tall doctor was there in time to catch him should he fall. "No problem, I can do this," Tony happiliy explained, "This is how I know where to put the books back. This one about ships is before the bottle with the green liquid." Behind the book about modern ships was a bottle of absinthe. Behind the book about baroque operas was a bottle of laudanum. Behind the encyclopedia about science of nature was a bottle of cognac.

That was it. No more bottles. Dr. Gängelmann stood there with Tony on his arms, beside him Meg and Antoinette both pale but their eyes like loaded cannons with the fire in the hole.

"Kindly explain this," Meg Giry found her voice first, her words icy.

Erik shuddered, he was leaning against the doorframe for support, trembling and almost green in his face. "Tony... you knew? How?"

"I like books," Tony replied cheerfully.

"It does not matter how Tony knew!" Antoinette exploded and slapped Erik so hard his head jerked with the blow. "You irresponsible ungreatful bastard! You promised not to take drugs again! Not to drink again! You promised! If Tony tried something of that it might have killed him!"

"I just wanted to protect you from my temper..." he whispered, trying to give an explanation that did not make him look weak, "I need these... to control my mood."

Antoinette was about to slap him again when Meg caught her wrist. "Mother, no! This is quite enough from you! He is my husband and I am well alble to deal with him alone. You can look after Tony while I have a word with Erik - **in private**!"

* * *

Antoinette Giry was deeply offended by her daughter's behavior and left the flat to go to the room reserved for ballet rehearsal which she considered to be her domain. She kept complaining loudly about the ungreatfulness of children nowadays and her daughter in particular despite the fact that no one listened to her. Whoever saw her storming off enraged was wise enough to keep out of her sight.

Dr. Gängelmann packed away all pills and bottles he found with Tony's help, wondering how the child had learned of his father's secret stacks of pills and bottles and wondering just how creative Erik was in hiding his stack. Tony helpfully brought him an old sheet he could use to pack everything. Then the doctor decided to stay and watch the child who was a bit agitated but didn't show any other reactions to the drug.

Erik sat on his bed, Meg pacing to and fro before him telling him how disappointed she was, how she had trusted him to keep his promise, how bad it was to endanger Tony for the child seemed to know each and every hidingplace for the alcohol and the drugs. Erik sat there, hanging his head in shame, and did not listen. He asked himself why he had succumbed to his addiction again, was it really to spare the other's his bad mood or was it to help himself control his emotions? Why was he not able to do that without drugs? Why did he crave the chemical induced feelings so much?

When Meg finally fell silent, panting heavily, Erik looked up at her. "I am sorry," he said, "I will do better in the future."

"If only I could believe that! Everyone knows that you are not good in keeping promises!" Meg was exaggerating. Truth was that Mr. Y had a much better reputation than he deserved. He was called an eccentric but honorable man with a good heart. Meg knew this was wrong - well, except him being eccentric. Erik was in no way honorable and his good heart was just an attempt either to soothe his guilty conscience or present himself as the good guy. He liked presenting himself as a good man like when he announced that he would select the four most talented orphans from the orphanage and give them a chance to study at university. There had even been a journalist writing a lengthy article praising him for doing so much good for immigrant orphans, financing the orphanage, giving them a chance to go to school and learning how to work.

Erik shook his head sadly. He had already learned that he could not control himself, he needed some help. "I promised to do everything to protect Tony," he stated firmly, "And I will do exactly that. Gather all employees tomorrow morning before the theater." He preferred to call the variety a theater, thinking the term vaudeville degrading him.

* * *

In the evening Erik's hands began to temble slightly. He casually dismissed it as just being nervous but Meg recognized the signs of withdrawal the doctor had warned her about. Fortunately it did not become much worse, confirming that Erik had told the truth when he swore that he had not been taking the drugs and drinking alcohol for a long time. He would suffer trembling, headache, sickness and a strong craving but it was by far not as bad as Dr. Gängelmann had described withdrawal to be.

The morning found every employee dutifully assembled before the variety, curious what Mr. Y had to tell them. It was hours before the opening of the park so there were no customers. Erik was the last one to appear, causing some jokes about his habit to make a dramatic entrance even if he was just going to fetch a piece of bread.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice easily carrying to every ear, "This is one of the hardest things to say, but... I have to." He looked terribly pale, the uncovered part of his face a bit yellowish, sweat glistening on his skin and his hands were constantly twitching, but he was able to remain on his feet, even if his hunched back gave away the pain in his stomach, he could not stand upright now. Everyone knew immediately that he was seriously ill.

"There have been rumors that I am a drunkard and drug-addict." He paused and looked around. Some people nodded, some murmured something. Yes, they knew of these rumors. "They are true," he confirmed, struggling to keep his voice steady but he could not prevent a slight quaver, "Many of you have seen me in the degrading state of full intoxication. It is true that I am an alcoholic and drug-addict."

He had to stop and take a couple of breaths to calm himself. The murmur fro the people became louder.

"I have new orders for you and everyone is to follow them to the letter or face my wrath!" He had raised his voice to stop the chattering but was interrupted by a cough. It took him some time to stop it, when he finally could control his voice again, tears were running from his eyes and he was unable to do anything about that. It was horribly humiliating but he had to do that now - or risk sinking even lower. "Not one of you - except Dr. Gängelmann - is allowed to give me any medicine, any alcohol, not even something to smoke. If I order something, remind me of my resolve to stay sober for the rest of my life. If this does not help, do not risk your health. Call the doctor immediately, he knows how to deal with me then. If I can't control myself, you have to help me."

By now he was struggling to stay on his feet but determined not to give in. "Everyone who cannot serve me any longer may leave now. Everyone who stays will be in my employ as before." No one left. They had known all along that he had some issues but to hear that openly confirmed was something completely new to them. Men did not admit their weakness, even the drunkard lying in the gutter would deny being an alcoholic. And here was this eccentric and proud man, confessing his weakness before his employees and asking their help to stay clean. This was unheard of. Some secretly despised him for that but there were many who admired his decision, especially women who had to deal with their husband's drinking were touched by his gesture. Here was a man who was ready to do everything - literally everything - to stay away from his vice in the future, even endure the humiliation of admitting it in public.

"Back to work!" Erik snapped angrily before turning round and hurrying back to his room. He needed to sit down, take off mask and wig and open his collar. He needed some air.

A soft knock at the door startled him. "Erik? May I come in?" It was Meg.

"If you must."

Meg came in and sat down on the bed besinde him, putting her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered.

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 _Yeah, I managed to write another chapter! I hope to be able to publish one the next week._


	68. Painful Recovery

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Painful Recovery**

Withdrawal was not as easy as Erik had hoped - but by far not as horrible as Dr. Gängelmann had informed them a withdrawal would be. Erik had committed poly drug use - cocaine, morphine and alcohol. Cocaine and morphine in form of pills to swallow, unfortunately with alcohol, but he had never sniffed it or tried to injekt in with a syringe. Dr. Gängelmann had warned Meg and her mother - and the maid - that Erik would suffer from cramps in all muscles that would cause him to lose control of his digestive tract in every possible way, he would suffer great pain, maybe even hallucinations, and it might be necessary to restrain him to keep him from running away and trying to get drugs. He might attack anyone who stood between him and the drugs he craved in this state.

"O please, I'm no werewolf," Erik had laughed it off. Now that he lay trembling under a pile of blankets despite the warm weather feelling an icy coldness that came from his very core he was no longer sure about that. He needed to rush to the toilet far too often, and when he was there he didn't know if it was more urgent to sit on the bowl or to hold his head over it. Meg had helpfully given him a bucket so he could do both at the same time. At least it had been Meg and not the maid... but after more than ten hours he didn't care much who helped him and saw him in this horrible state.

"Erik? Try some ginger tea, will you? It helps the nausea and maybe warms you a bit." It was the tall doctor.

"Aren't you to be on the stage as master of ceremonies?" Erik grunted and peered out from under his blankets.

"Benny is taking over. Do not worry, he may not have my commanding presence but is much better in telling jokes."

Erik muttered a curse as he pushed himself to a sitting position and reached for the cup with trembling hands. He managed to hold the cup with both hands and bring them to his lips, even to swallow the lukewarm tea with honey. When he handed the cup back to the doctor he noticed that the doctor had a bucket ready. "I won't need that," he said as he settled back to the pillows and covered himself with blankets, trying to get warm somehow.

The doctor stared at his watch as Erik closed his eyes and tried to think of something that would calm him. Music. Soft and gentle music to soothe his pain.

"Good! You are doing really good, Erik!" the doctor informed him cheerfully, "You can keep it down and you can rest. I know it is painful now, but I've seen far worse withdrawals."

"Told you I was only taking pills and that not for such a long time," Erik allowed himself a smile, "You didn't believe me."

The doctor laughed. "Every addict tends to downplay the problem. But yes, you downplayed less than I assumed, which is a good sign. The sooner addiction is stopped, the easier it is to stay clean."

The days that followed were even worse, but Erik was not completely confined to bed. He could get up and he did not need to be nursed. He could control himself and withstand temptation to go out to get something - be it alcohol or drugs. He did beg for some medicine to relief his suffering but finally accepted that any medicine that would take away the pain and the craving would be another drug causing just another addiction.

Soon after the physical symptoms vanished Erik began locking himself in his music room or library or in his office, the curtains shut, avoiding light and noise and especially avoiding any contact. If he had to meet someone he was grumpy, often angry and very short-tempered. Even Tony suffered Erik's impatience.

Erik could not stand anyone's company. He could not stand the slightest pressure, even if Meg just asked him if she would come to eat with them he yelled at her that she was obviously trying to kill him with her demands. He felt always so very tired, suffered terrible headache and was over-sensitive to light, color and noise. If it was up to him he would lie on his bed, the curtains closed, and do nothing. He would either sleep or doze for nearly twenty hours a day as if he was trying to make up for all the sleep he had missed in his past.

Having confessed to being an addicted proved to cut both ways: Since he knew that everyone knew about his addiction and his employees were keeping an eye on him his pride forced him to avoid drugs and alcohol. He could easily leave his park and purchase it somewhere else, but that was something he did not want to do. He had enough self-control to keep himself from leaving the park where he felt safe. It as his park, his employees, he had build or renovated most buildings and he had added some hidingplaces so he could disappear when he needed to.

But he had to attend to the regular meetings of the businessmen of Coney Island. These meetings were still in New York, hosted by the richest of them who had some other enterprizes and even a hotel in New York. Erik was now with his share of the shipping company the second richest of them and suddenly found himself no longer being the one of the lowest rank but somewhere in the middle. By his wealth he ought to be second but he was not. He found the poorer ones looking up to him, especially the small independent men who tried to survive with their small businesses between the large parks, the middle class men - what was middle class among the fairground men of Coney Island - considering him as barely equal and the rich ones, to whom he would rightfully belong, considering him beneath them but one of their club. He could do nothing about that, he could only accept and play by their unwritten rules if he wanted to avoid them working all together against him.

They had of course heared that he had openly admitted being an alcoholic and drug addict and even if some of them were drinking much heavier than Erik ever had - they were known to start the day with at least quarter litre of rum, whiskey or another strong liquid and needed at least four litres wine a day or they would start trembling and being absolutely unfit to work - but now everyone stared at him, everyone wanted to see if he would accept the champagne or wine or any other drink. He refused, ashamed of his weakness and not wanting to prove them right.

At first he was offered some of his favorite wine, but he refused and ordered some coffee. Then they offered him a wine imported from France, they knew he liked this wine very much but never allowed himself to spend so much money on wine, and it was extremely difficult to refuse. He put his hand over his glass to prevent the waiter from filling it, well aware that he was being watched.

"Come on, Mr. Y, one glass won't harm you," one of them teased, "Man up, it is just one tiny glass!"

Erik knew that the way he stared greedily at the wine gave away how much he craved it. He could feel his mouth water and knew they saw him struggling. This was a terrible mockery of hospitality. They did nothing wrong, just wanting him to drink the fine wine they offered - and yes, it was surely very bad behavior not to accept hospitality, it was an offence to the host - but he knew if he started now in half a year or maybe a year he would be precisely where he had been weeks ago - a trembling wreck struggling to keep at least some of his dignity. He could do nothing but bite back his simmering temper and mask his pure hatred with a friendly smile. "I beg your pardon, sir, please do not misinterpret my words. I highly appreciate your hospitality and am very grateful for all that - but please understand that I just do not want any wine. It is no intended insult if I decline - it is a necessity."

As the evening went on Erik noticed how the formerly good behavior or his colleagues - and competitors - slowly became less and less acceptable. It started with some not-so-acceptable jokes and them finding something funny he found rather embarrassing. One man spilled his drink, another one returned from the toilet with the front of his trousers unbuttoned, another one tried in vain to lift the black maid's skirt to see if her legs were as black as her face. Erik found that utterly disgusting and vile, but he remembered with a shudder that he had in one of the other meetings stolen a garter from a woman - one of the vaudeville dancers who were known to spend each night with a different customer - and found that highly amusing then. Now he felt ashamed of himself knowing that only weeks ago he was one of these drunken fools, mocking poor servant girls, telling dirty jokes and engaging in absolutely ridiculous competitions or laughing and cheering at girls forced to make a living letting drunken fools mock them when they would have to do some sort of erotic dance.

"I have to go," one of the men who was still sober excused himself. He was one of the independent men, having just a little shop in the area where the small independent enterprises gather between the parks.

"Me too," Erik jumped to his feet and shortly a small group left the meeting. Erik wasn't used to that. Usually he was either the first one to leave or the last one to more or less crawl out when he was so drunk he could barely stand on his feet. He wondered how he had found his way home then - it was a miracle he had come home at all without accidents! He had used the car, of course, because he wanted to show off that he was among the wealthy now. Right now he thought a carriage would have been less risk for the horse would avoid accidents of its own accord.

"Mr. Y - since when do you leave that early?" he is asked.

"Since I stopped making a fool of myself," he replied, "It seems I'm not the only one who is in control of himself." When he saw the others walk away on foot he called out after them: "May I offer you a ride? I'm going to Coney Island anyways..."

On the ride home he had a very good discussion with the independent fairground men about the new train station the city government planned on Coney Island. Unlike the other owners of large amusement parks he was willing to listen to their suggestions and worries and was surprised that he could talk with them. At first they were reluctant to talk to him - but the more he showed interest in their ideas they opened up. There was no direct competition between them so their discussion was far more focused on the real issues than the discussion in the previous meeting - the business dinner. There was an advantage to being sober, he realized, as hard as it was.

When he came home he went directly to Meg's room. She was annoyed that he did wake her in the middle of the night, but at least he was sober. His clothing smelled of cold smoke but he didn't smell of alcohol and his movements and speech told her that he was in complete control of himself. "I did it," he told her cheerfully, "A whole business dinner without one drop of wine!"

She laughed. Right now he reminded her of a small boy asking his mother if he had gotten his homework correctly. Waiting for her to praise him. "I'm proud of you," she told him with a genuine smile.

"I have that itch on my back... would you please rub some lotion on it?" he asked, but his grin indicated that the lotion on his skinfolds was not what he really wanted.

"Erik, it has been a long day for me too..." she sighed.

"But it itches! I can't sleep when it itches!" he complained, again giving the impression of an innocent boy - except for the excitement in his eyes. "Poppy, please... you know I can't sleep if it itches!"

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 _Thank you for reading!_

 _Next chapter will be up next Monday! I can't keep up my schedule of 3 chapters a week, I'm sorry, but one chapter a week is possible. I'll try my best!_


	69. Horse Race

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Horse Race**

Erik did not manage to find a way to deal with his temper other than locking himself away. Far too often he suffered his black mood and terrible headache and without the pills to control that his only escape was to find some cool and dark and most important quiet place. The abandoned cellar that had formerly been the casino was precisely what he needed.

Tony learned the hard way not to disturb his father when he suffered headache. The child had not accepted his father not teaching him magic tricks as promised because of some headache and demanded in a loud and shrill voice that Erik kept his promise.

"Not now, Tony, I have a terrible headache!" Erik replied irritated.

"Daddy! Headache is just a sorry excuse as you keep telling Mama when she doesn't want to dance," Tony argued, "And you promised!"

"I'll promise to teach you, Tony, when my headache is better. Now leave or I promise you a good trashing!" Unlike everyone else who had to deal with Mr. Erik Y Tony ignored the dangerous gleam in Erik's eyes. Tony was just a child, not even seven years old, trusting his father not to really hurt him, and the child used his really loud voice for an unnerving screech to get his father's attention. Erik could not take any more and slapped the child, slapped him so hard Tony fell to the ground and lost two teeth - fortunately milk teeth.

He ran to his mother for comfort while Erik finally locked himself in with a sigh. He just needed to lie down and get some rest. Cool, dark, quiet. That was what he needed now.

Meg was on stage so Tony only found his grandmother who helped him clean up and comforted him that it had just been milk teeth, while at the same time berating Tony for bugging his father when Erik was already trying to hide from everyone. What else could Erik do now to protect others but lock himself away for a few hours if he needed rest?

Meg and her mother finally agreed that Tony would be send to a public school next autumn to give the child some occupation that would keep him from annoying Erik. And a school was always a good idea for a child, even if Tony already could read and count - even do some easy bookkeeping. Surely he could still learn much in school.

Erik wasn't happy with their idea, as was Tony. "Tony can read and write in four languages, can do accounting on a cash basis, what else does he need?" he disagreed.

"Erik, he is a child, for God's sake! He needs to be among children, needs to play with them and have fun!"

"I'm having fun here!" Tony disagreed loudly, "Daddy, pleeeeeease! I promise I'll never annoy you again!"

Erik looked at Tony, studied the reddened cheek - his hand had left a very clear imprint - the swollen lip and the two milk teeth Tony had placed next to his plate proudly. He felt guilty for striking his child for no other reason but the boy insisting that he kept his promise. No child should be punished for insisting upon its rights. "Tony, if you are a good boy you won't have to go to school. School is like prison: you commit a crime, you do the time. Understood?"

Tony eagerly agreed while Meg and Antoinette protested loudly. They did not share Erik's opinion of what school was, on the contrary, they thought school would be nice for a child.

"And if I'm grown up, I won't have to play with children?" Tony's question made clear that he was actually scared of children. "If I'm grown up, I won't have to go to school? I could go to work each day like you do?"

"Of course! But first you have to learn how to behave as an adult and... have you done your bookkeeping today?" Erik replied.

"You are soooo mean!" Tony protested.

Erik held up one finger. "Mr. Antoine Y, one more word and you are to go to school! If you can't learn on your own you'll have to attend class!" That threat worked, Tony stormed off to his room, slamming every door shut. Meg counted the bangs and noticed that Tony must be running rounds in the house again or he couldn't slam so many doors. Antoinette began a lengthy lecture why Erik was doing everything wrong a father could possibly do wrong educating his child - and Erik ignored her completely. He had grown very good in shutting out her nagging and pretending to be deaf.

* * *

It was a wonderful summer day when Erik took his family to the racing course again. Meg didn't like horses and didn't like horse races but Tony was so excited about the horses she couldn't deny him this visit, especially that day because Erik had been invited to the private box of the manager of the racing course along with other businessmen. He was slowly being accepted on Coney Island and loved it so much he would not risk offending them and declining.

Tony was even more excited than ever when they drove to the horse racing course. Erik used his car, he wanted to show off that he had a car he had designed himself. Meg wondered why it was so important to Erik to show everyone that he was now one of the upper class, she had never thought him to be that peacocky, but he was. "Chocolate will win today, I'm sure!" Tony exclaimed for the umpteenth time.

"If you say so..." Meg sighed annoyed. First sharks, now horses. If Tony was interested in something it dominated their family life for years. At least they had Squelch who knew much about horses and loved to babysit Tony so they had at least some time together where the word 'horse' was an absolute taboo. Meg was glad that Squelch and Giant Joe - whom she still called Dr. Gangle because she preferred that to Dr. Gängelmann and even he began calling himself Gangle which was easier to pronounce for English speaking people - with them. They would accompany Tony who insisted that if he helped preparing Chocolate, the horse would surely win to the boxes. Erik and Meg couldn't do this themselves, they had to attend to the small social meeting they were invited to.

"I'll go to Chocolate!" Tony exclaimed and rushed off before Erik had any chance to stop the car. Fortunately the car wasn't fast - it could not go any faster than 10 km/h and around the many carriages bringing people to the horse racing course Erik could not go any faster than 3 to 5 km/h or risk an accident. Squelch jumped out of the car and ran after Tony but the Strongman was not the fastest one.

Meg rolled her eyes. "I do not like how you encourage Tony's love for the racing horses! It is too dangerous!"

"O please, he is allowed to ride Chocolate when Squelch is with them. Do you really think anything would happen as long as Squelch is leading the horse by the reins? And Chocolate is no stallion, he's a lamb, more than that, he's like a lamb after smoking opium for hours!" Erik laughed it off.

* * *

The three of them - Erik, Meg, Joe - went to the manager's box along with others. They were offered some refreshments. Erik reached for a glass of champagne out of habit, but the tall doctor nudged him. Erik glared at the doctor angrily and the tall man apologized for his clumsiness, but both men knew what this really was about. The masked man didn't drink anything at all.

It was a totally boring meeting for Meg who had nothing to do but sit there and look pretty. She watched the other women. They were all at least twice her age and at least twice her weight. Not one of them looked good, despite them wearing much jewelry and their dresses were far more expensive. They looked rather like fat flamboyant Christmas trees!

Erik was having a very good business conference with the others, they discussed if they would work together on a special event at the horse racing course and Erik was asked if he could provide music - and his musicians - and maybe even a little magic show. None of them seemed to be really interested in the horse races.

When the second race started - Chocolate was in this one - Meg noticed something wrong. Chocolate seemed to be nervous when he came to the starting line and other than usual he wasn't just standing there as if he was dozing of but like the other horses he was prancing eager to run. "Erik? Who is riding Chocolate today?" she asked.

Erik was annoyed about the interruption in the business conference and answered without even looking at her: "Nathan of course. I don't have another jockey."

"But... Nathan is taller!" Meg replied.

"Nonsense! Nathan is..." Erik turned round and used his opera glass to watch the race start. Suddenly he stiffened and dropped the glasses, the unmasked part of his face as white as the mask. "O God! That's Tony!"

Meg fainted.

"You have to stop the race! Stop it!" Erik yelled at the manager of the horse racing course and grabbed him at the jacket.

"I can't!" the man replied frightened by Erik's sudden outburst.

"You have to! That is my six year old son on that horse!"

"I can't!"

"Then I stop this!" Erik exclaimed and sprinted out of the box, down the wooden staircase and through the are where the less wealthy people watched the races. He didn't care whom he pushed out of the way or ran down. There were several people but he didn't even register them. Never in his life had he been running like this.

Before he reached the racetrack two guards grabbed him and stopped him or he would have run directly under the hooves of the stallions in full gallop. "You can't enter the racetrack! The horses started and have several rounds to go!"

"Stop the race! You have to stop them! Stop! This is a child riding the horse! God, my boy is only six!" The two men weren't able to hold him but Squelch - who had been close to the racetrack from the beginning - helped them.

"You can't stop the race!" the strongman gasped, "It would endanger Tony even more!"

"You were supposed to keep him **safe**!" Erik roared and somehow managed to break free from the three men who tried to hold him back. The same moment he spun round and his fist connected with Squelch's nose, sending the strongman to the ground, a gush of blood running from his broken nose. But the message had somehow reached Erik's panicked mind - do not stop the race. It is less risk to let them finish.

Erik held onto the wooden fence that separated the audience from the racetrack. He saw nothing but the giant dark brown stallion and his thundering hooves and the tiny frame of his only child, barely visible as he sat ducked down over the muscular neck of the horse. The child could fall any moment and die! Erik repeated constantly one sentence as if it was a mantra: "O God, let Tony live! Let my child live!"

There were so many of the large full-breed stallions with large hooves all of them shod with iron horse-shoes. The speed was tremendous, up to 60 kilometers per hour! The tiniest mistake could cause the child to fall and he would not survive being trampled down by the following horses.

Erik saw nothing but the large dark brown stallion as he finally crossed the goal line and slowed down to go another round in trod before he left the racing course with the others, Tony steered him to the place before the stables where the horses would be taken over by the stable boys to dry them with rugs, feed them and lead them a few rounds on the reins to cool them down before bringing them to the stable.

He ran towards that place and arrived there just the moment Tony jumped down from the back of the large horse.

"Tony!" Erik exclaimed, fell to his knees in the dirt and embraced his child, pressing him to his chest, "You're alive! Thank God, you are alive!"

"Release me!" Tony choked out, struggling to free himself from his father's far too tight embrace.

"Never!" Erik was able to loosen his grip on the child so he would not squeeze it to death, but Tony would not move one inch with his father's arms around the tiny body. How could such a small skinny child control a racehorse? A thoroughbred stallion of all horses! In a horse-race with several other stallions in full gallop!

"Daddy! Release me!" Tony demanded again.

"No... I love you, Tony, I love you so much!" he cried, tears running from his eyes as he kissed his child's head again and again. "I was so afraid to lose you!"

"Father!" Tony's voice - being a child's voice all the same - suddenly had a new quality to it. It was much like the voice Erik had used as the Phantom intimidating everyone in the opera - the voice he used to bring his employees in line and make them obey immediately without any questions. It had an effect on the masked man, he released his son and sat back on his heels, now holding his son's arms with his hands in such a fierce grip he left bruises but right now he didn't realize that. Erik stared at the child speechless. Tony held his small head high, looking his father straight in the eyes. "That is the most disgracing display of weakness," the child rebuked his father, "And I will not tolerate you making a fool of yourself in public. You may clap me on the shoulder like the proud owner of a prized stallion does with a successful jokey, you might even embrace me like a proud father, but you will never ever shame me like this!"

Erik stared at his son, unable to understand what was happening now. The child was speaking to him like he had done lecturing Tony to never display any weakness in public - and now he felt the words thrown back in his face like daggers. He could not think, could not speak, could not even breathe now.

"Sir?" Someone placed a hand on Erik's shoulder, but the masked man didn't react. "Sir, you have to release him now. Sir?"

Erik took a shuddering breath and shook his head, more in denial that this was actually happening than in refusal.

"Sir! We need him for the victory ceremony!"

"The... the... **What**?" Erik was stuttering like a fool, unable to think, unable to do anything.

"He won the third place and is to receive a medal," he was informed and Tony began to struggle against his grip again, this time Erik realized he was hurting his son and losened his grip, allowing his child to break free and follow the other man - whoever that was, Erik didn't see or hear anything, he just knelt in the dirty sand of the place before the stable, tears streaming from his eyes, tears he did not even realize he shed.

Chocolate lowered his large head and gently nibbled on Erik's shoulder, touching his cheek with his soft nose. Erik automatically reached up to caress the horse as if the animal was a friend trying to comfort him.

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 _Thank you for reading. Please review! Next chapter will be up next week - due to the Easter Holiday most likely not on Monday._

 _In some parts of the world children get trained as jockeys as soon as they can stand on their feet because the smaller the child the faster the horse or camel. The child jockeys are 4-6 years old. So yes, it is possible for such a young child to be a jockey._


	70. Monster and Son

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Monster and Son**

Erik did not know how long he stayed there on hands and knees in the dirty sand, his head bowed, silently crying and not knowing if it were tears of happiness he shed or fear. Happiness that his child was alive, fear that his child would become like him. Tony looked like his mother in every way, thank God, he didn't resemble his father in the slightest. But in character he seemed to come mostly after his father, unfortunately.

Someone eventually helped him to his feet and placed him on a bench so he was out of the way for the horses coming from the racetrack or being saddled and brindled for the next races. He was just in their way, but didn't notice how dangerous for him this was. He noticed absolutely nothing, sat there and stared at the usual chaotic hectic around the stables when many races would take place on one afternoon.

It was Tony who went to fetch him and tell him they would go home now. Tony was already in his elegant suit - that was a bit short on him now - and proudly wore the medal he had received. "Daddy! Come, we're going!" he exclaimed and pulled at Erik's sleeve.

The masked man somehow managed to follow his child to the car. Meg was already sitting in it, looking extremely pale and shaken. Squelch stood next to the car, holding a towel to his nose, blood on his shirt, while the tall doctor tried to fold his long legs so he could drive the car. When he saw Erik he said: "There is no way you are driving now!" Erik just nodded and sat next to Meg, unable to think clearly.

When they drove off Tony began telling them every detail of the race like any excited child would. He told them again and again until they were home and did not stop repeating the story for hours, while his parents were completely silent and barely moved.

Antoinette nearly fainted when she learned what had happened. "How could you?" she yelled at Erik, "How could you allow him?"

"I didn't! Tony was allowed to ride Chocolate when Squelch was with him!" Erik defended himself.

"And that is precisely what I did!" the child protested "I never rode Chocolate when Uncle Squelch wasn't there! He taught me riding! He's the best when it comes to horses!"

"I'll kill him!" Antoinette Giry exclaimed, "I'll wring his fat neck!"

"You'll have to wait in line because I want to cut of his head first," Meg sighed. She was still extremely pale.

Erik did not utter any threads. He was still too shaken to think of an appropriate punishment for the strongman now. "Tony, how did you get Squelch to allow that? Riding Chocolate is one thing - but riding him in a horse race!"

"You ordered it," Tony innocently remarked.

"I?" Erik stared at his child. He was absolutely sure he had never given such an absurd order.

"Not directly," Tony admitted, "But you said he needed another jokey, one with the fierce will to win. And it worked!"

"But how did you...?"

Tony was excited enough to begin his tale without further encouragement. "Getting Nathan out of the way was easy. I mixed some of the water from the faucet in his drinking water. He's sick now."

"Tony! You know that this can cause typhus, cholera and dysentery!" his grandmother exclaimed.

"Which will render him unable to work for weeks," Tony agreed proud of his scheme.

"And what gave you such horrible ideas?" Meg asked, wondering how her innocent young child would come up with such ideas like poisoning someone to take his place.

"It's what Daddy did in the opera," Tony replied, "He told me exactly how to mix something in someone's drink. I couldn't use his mixture because Nathan would be able to ride without his voice, so I needed something else."

Erik covered his masked face in both hands and shook his head in denial. This could not happen! This could not be true! The child was proud of himself and his crimes! And it was all his fault, he had told his child of his schemes in the opera and made them sound funny and something to be proud of. Of course he had not expected the child to actually use them! Meg and Antoinette glared at Erik, the expression on their faces making it quite clear that after killing Squelch he would be the next victim.

* * *

When dinner was served, only Tony was able to eat with great appetite. Erik could not bring himself to swallow anything, not even tea, and Meg and her mother just moved their food around on their plates. While Tony was exhilarated, the adults were terribly shaken and didn't know what to say or do. They silently agreed that they were too shaken to decide about the consequences now. They would sleep over it one night, then talk and decide. Erik was sure he would not have any saying in that, he knew Meg and her mother blamed him for Tony's recklessness, even he knew he had failed educating his child, no matter he had wanted only the best for him.

"How did you get Chocolate to run like this?" Erik asked, trying to understand what his child had done.

"What you would do - I hit him for his own good. Chocolate is lazy, he is content to run along somewhere in the middle of the herd, so I had to hit him to make him run. Afterwards I gave him apples, carrots and stale bread with a bit of sugar. He loves that!"

"But why, Tony? Why did you do that? You know the risk - you've seen accidents on the racing track before! You know of maimed and dead jockeys! Why did you risk your life?" Meg asked, her voice betraying her distress.

Tony stared at his mother. "Isn't that obvious? A little girl would never be able to win a place on the podium, would she? Now no one can ever call me a little girl again! I won't have to go to school or play with children and Daddy has to teach me magic so I can take over his show acts!"

"But Tony... don't you want to be a child? Play like a child?" Antoinette asked.

"No. Children are stupid, unimaginative and their games are useless. I've watched them - there is no sense in kicking some trash in the streets, their 'cowboy and indians' has nothing to do with the real thing and girls are even more boring, spending hours with dresses and dolls. Boooooring!"

"And what would be interesting?" Meg asked, wondering how a child - a girl - could find all games boring. Of course she could understand that not every girl liked dolls and dresses, but she could not understand how a child could be so utterly desinterested in other children, no matter boys or girls.

"Maths," Tony said cheerfully, "Trigonometry and physics."

"You find maths more interesting than playing?" Antoinette could not understand her grandchild. She remembered her schooltime and that she loved dancing and even literature class but always hated maths.

"In that case I'm going to teach you," Erik replied, "I promise. One day a week will be reserved for teaching you whatever you like to learn and I promise you all the books you want. And you promise me no dangerous stunts again, will you?"

The child tried to object: "But..."

"No dangerous stunts! Or Chocolate goes to the knacker!" Erik raised his voice, making unmistakably clear that he would not tolerate any further objections.

"That's blackmail!" Tony indignantly protested.

"Yes, and I have the means to carry out this threat, so you better do as I say! You may ride Chocolate, if you like, but only in training rounds when he's alone on the racetrack." His father was adamant.

"Erik! No, this is too dangerous!" Meg protested.

"Meg, it is better to allow him some horse-riding or I'm sure he's going to do it secretly. And a training gallop on a racetrack is less risky than some illegal horse-race in some uneven backstreets," Erik reasoned, knowing he would not be able to forbid horse-riding entirely. If his child had tasted the thrill of speed he knew perfectly well Tony would not wait another ten years before experiencing that again.

* * *

Meg could not sleep that night. She opened the window and hoped the cool breeze from the ocean and the sound of the sea would calm her. After hours, just when she finally was dozing off, she heard a slight clicking of the door. "O Tony, you are too old to come to my bed when you can't sleep!" she groaned. Tony was a very twitchy sleeper and she was sure she would not sleep when he was in her bed - but in the morning she would have bruises because the child tended to kick in his sleep.

"I agree that I am too old," came Erik's voice, "Tony is sound asleep, I just checked on him."

Meg bolted upright and saw Erik in his long nightshirt but without mask and wig. "Erik? I definitely not in the mood..."

He held up his hands placatory. "Neither do I," he admitted, "I just... need to hold you. Please."

Meg rolled her eyes and moved to make some space for him in her bed. One child had finally learned not to come to her when he couldn't sleep - and now she had a clingy husband. Just great.

Erik carefully slipped under her sheet and took her in is arms as if she was a large doll - which included that he pushed and pulled her limbs until she was in exactly the position he found comfortable. She knew that he didn't even know he was doing that. His mind was completely occupied, he really didn't know he was treating her like a doll. She had experienced that before - if she would try to resist he would bolt and that could hurt them. If she asked him why he pushed her into a certain position he would deny doing that - while placing her hand where he wanted it.

When he settled down lying on his back with a sigh and put one hand on her hair as her head rested against his right shoulder, her right arm across his breast, she asked: "What's troubling you?"

"I achieved so much... from an enslaved circus freak to a... businessman. But I failed completely when it comes to the really important things in life. I failed as a father."

Meg didn't answer. He wanted to talk and if she replied it would only disturb his train of thoughts.

He pushed her legs in a position that allowed him to entwine his legs with hers. She wondered if he had some extra joints for the Gordian knot he managed to make. It was absolutely impossible for both of them to move now before untangling their limbs. "I only wanted the best for my child," Erik told her.

"Maybe you shouldn't have tried to turn a girl into a mercenary," Meg couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

"Meg, I just wanted to do everything better than everyone who raised me did. I would never let the body determine my child's fate. When I was a child, everyone told me I was an ugly freak, all I could ever be in life was a freak - and if a freakshow hired me I was to count myself lucky for the only other fate awaiting me was to be a beggar in the streets. If I wouldn't accept that I would most likely end up in prison, die and end up in hell. And now... here I am. A businessman. I have my own amusement park, a security firm and half or a shipping company. I'm an honest, respectable man now." One might argue the term honest and his reputation was still questionable.

"But you see what you are doing? She's endangering herself just to win your affection, to show you that she's worth your love."

"Tony scared the hell out of me. He used my voice trick! But... yes, he was right, I was making a spectacle in my panic. One mustn't show feelings in public, I just... forgot about this lesson. I think... Tony needs to learn some social skills, or he ends up as an embittered lonely old man like me."

"Lonely?" Meg indignantly protested. What did he think? He was in her bed, holding her in a way she couldn't move, and complained he was lonely?

"No offense," he sighed, "I am no longer lonely, but... I was for years. I know what loneliness and bitterness can cause."

"A chandelier crash?"

Erik flinched. That hurt, but he knew he deserved that. "Something like that," he admitted.

"So... what are you going to do? Send her to school?"

Erik laughed. "And what would he do there? Tony can already write in several languages, even if his orthography is terrible, that comes with reading many books and much practice. He is six and can do simple bookkeeping, is interested in trigonometry while other boys that age struggle with the alphabet and multiplication table. He would be the smallest, most tender boy in class - and he would be at the level of boys twice his age. The others would kill him! I know what people are like and children are even more cruel than adults! No, I can't do that to my boy!"

"A girl's school?"

"Very funny. What good would that do? Girls aren't prepared to become businessmen or study at university. Tony loves maths, physics and chemistry. But how many universities accept women? No, he has to stay a boy or he'll be damned to waste his talents as a housewife."

"How could she ever accept being female when you always tell her that everything a woman does is unimportant and boring?" Meg complained, "I am the star of your shows, am I not? I am the mother of your child, does that count nothing?"

"I didn't say you were unimportant," he defended himself, "I just said that I understand Tony that science is more interesting than other things. He has shown absolutely no talent for music or dance so far, only for painting and crafting. And that is much easier if he stays a boy. That's final! But... in one thing you are right, I will have to try to get him to interact with people somehow."

"If love was a flower, what would it be?" Meg asked, trying to find something else to talk about.

"I hope it is a resurrection plant," Erik replied, "It can survive being dried for years and as soon as you water it it blooms again."

Meg sighed. At least something. The shock of seeing Tony risking his life to win a horserace seemed to have shaken Erik enough to beat some sense into him. The fell silent. After a while she heard Erik's breathing becoming even, he relaxed and dozed off. Shortly after that he began to snore. Meg sighed. Either a child chatting and playing and occasionally kicking or a snoring, clingy husband. When would she have her bed for herself again?

* * *

"No fair!" Tony's scream woke them both, Erik bolted with a start and his nose collided painfully with Meg's skull. While the adults struggled to untangle their numb limbs Tony protested that it was unfair that his parents sleep in one bed and he was not allowed in either one's bed.

"Tony! Get dressed and ready for breakfast!" Meg sternly commands and Erik wonders why she suddenly sounds exactly like her mother. In a few years she might replace her mother as scarecrow.

* * *

Breakfast brought the next quarrel. Tony argued that since he had already proven himself he ought to be allowed to ride horse races.

"It is too dangerous!" Meg explained.

"Tony, please understand that we are worried about you. We want to keep you safe," Erik added, trying to reason with the child.

Tony did not see reason. "But why? You do not try to keep anyone else safe! It is not fair!"

"Tony, I love you. You are my only son. I can't risk losing you!"

"That is not fair! Only because you aren't able to sire more children, I am not allowed to..." Tony never finished his sentence. Erik completely lost his composure and hit his child hard, so hard, the child fell back with his chair and landed on his back, rolled to his side and didn't move.

"Tony! O my God!" Meg yelled and rushed to help Tony.

" **Doctor! Get the doctor!"** Erik roared so it was likely that everyone in the park heard him. Antoinette jumped to her feet and ran to fetch Dr. Gängelmann. Erik picked Tony up and carried him to his bed, carefully placing him on his side. "Tony... I didn't want that..." he whispered, all his fury was gone, he feared for his son's life and at the same time knew it was his fault now, his alone.

"You killed him!" Meg yelled.

"No. He is just unconscious," Erik defended himself, but he too was shaking. He knelt down beside the bed and took Tony's small soft hands in his. "Tony, my dear son, please, wake up... If you can hear me: I am sorry. I am so sorry. Please. Wake up!"

* * *

When the doctor arrived he found Meg sitting in the livingroom, the maid trying to comfort her. Meg was crying hysterically and alternately threatening to kill her husband and praying to God to save her poor child.

Tony was on his bed in his room, he was already awake. Erik knelt beside his bed, he too was crying. Erik had taken off mask and wig and was trying to apologize to his son.

"Let me see him!" the doctor commanded with all authority a doctor had.

It turned out that Tony was not badly injured. He had a bad bruise on the back of his head and the muscles in neck and shoulders were tensed up but no injury to the spine or the skull. Maybe he had a concussion because he suffered dizziness and felt sick, but he did not throw up. "That's a good sign. If it was a concussion, he would vomit. If he does not, it is either no concussion at all or a minor one."

"Thank God!" Erik exclaimed, his relief was almost palpable.

"Two days rest and then I see him again," the doctor advised and grabbed Erik's arm, "One word with you, sir!" Erik did not dare to refuse as the doctor led him into another room, just informed Meg that it wasn't bad and Tony should rest for two days.

* * *

The two men went to the library and closed the door. Erik was still trembling and struggling not to hyperventilate.

"Erik, I have to have a word with you," the doctor sternly began, "You can't hit him like this. It was pure luck that he didn't break his neck! You could have killed him!"

Erik buried his face in his hands and sank to his knees. "I didn't want this!" he moaned.

"You wanted to hit him, did you?"

"No! I... I didn't think at all... when he argued that it is unfair that he is forbidden to ride in horse races only because I am unable to father more children I... I do not know... I hit him before I realized what I was doing... I didn't mean to..."

"Erik, calm down, I never accused you of trying to kill your own child," the doctor replied with a smile, "And I do agree that such audacious impertinence must not be tolerated, but if you punish your child, do not do it like this. If you must punish a child, remember how much taller and stronger you are. You have to be calm and in perfect control of yourself. Understood?"

"I'll never strike him again!" Erik was a sobbing wreck by the time the tall doctor had finished his little speech.

"I didn't say that! I said... o, just forget it! Right now, all of you need some time to calm down."

* * *

Erik did not leave his son's side the following two days. He sat at his bed day and night, watching the child, talking to him, apologizing a thousand times and trying to keep Tony in bed - the child was bored, wanted to get up and do something. The only way to keep him in bed was teaching him magic tricks.

Meg wondered why Erik could be such a wonderful father now - when she could have killed him before! Right now he seemed to really care and he was willing to hear her opinion, really listen to her and not just enter a competition of arguments which he usually won because he just ignored her arguments. Right now he listened carefully and tried to find compromises between his opinion, his wife's opinion and his child's. Tony was as stubborn as his father and would surely not accept being a girl and Meg - scared what recklessness Tony would be up to just to prove to her that he was a boy - accepted that. For now.

When the doctor came to check on his patient he found the child sitting on the bed, happily lecturing about horse-breeding with two large books about horses on his bed. Erik was sitting in the chair beside the bed and looked like he hadn't moved, slept or eaten for the last two days.

"How is he?" asked Erik.

"Tony looks fine to me - if he's lecturing about horses and reading books in two different languages he surely didn't suffer any brain damage. He might get up."

"Yippie!" Tony exclaimed, jumped out of the bed and got dressed in such a hurry, the shirt wasn't buttoned properly and he wore two different colored socks.

Erik looked like he might collapse any moment now.

"Erik, when was the last time you ate something?" the doctor asked worriedly.

"Before the horserace," Erik replied, pushed himself up to stand - and suddenly everything was black before his eyes. He did not fall, but he needed some time until he saw clearly, he blinked and stared at the doctor. "My back hurts," he complained.

"Small wonder if you really slept in that chair the last two nights. Go eat and drink and then sleep! Doctor's order!"

"Sounds better than wife's order," Erik replied with a grin.

"Your humor is..." the doctor stopped as he noticed that Erik's left eye was black and his lip swollen - not on the deformed side that always looked swollen but on the other. "Quarrel with your wife?"

"I deserved that," Erik sighed, "How's Squelch's nose?"

"Broken, but he'll heal. But now he's suffering typus and that is something that worries me... he never drank water unboiled. Never. He knows the danger."

Erik almost burst with laughter. Meg. That was Meg's doing, he was sure of that. "Okay, a broken nose, typhus... I wonder what he will suffer next..."

"Go to bed before you hurt yourself!"

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 _I'm sorry I kept you waiting that long for the next chapter. Please review_!


	71. Lectures

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Lectures**

Erik finally came up with an idea how to get Tony to interact with other children. He discussed this with Meg, who wanted to consult her mother, and finally the two women agreed that it was worth a try. They had to coax Tony into interacting with children so he lost his fear of them. If he learned that children weren't little monsters bound to hurt him he maybe would find some friends. They didn't care much if he played with children who worked in the park, with children of employees or with children of customers as long as he came into contact with children at all.

Erik called Tony to his office to give this an official touch. "Tony, I have a task for you," he began.

"An official task? Like doing a show?" Tony was exited.

"Not a show, my son, something even more important. You already do assist me in some magic shows..."

"Too seldom! You rarely give any magic shows nowadays!" the child complained.

Erik smiled. Yes, only at weekends he did magic shows, he could not do more and fulfill all his other tasks in administration, composing, teaching his child and do his least favorite task - socialize with important men. It was just too much for him, he could not do all of it alone. But the prices for the magic shows were ridiculous high - the less performances he gave the higher the ticket prices. "No, not another show. Something more important."

"Book keeping?"

"You really love maths, do you?" Erik laughed. It was unusal for a child to love maths.

"Yes, it is logical," Tony replied eagerly, "I like it."

"Well... You know that I have some employees mix with customers and engage in polite conversation to find out what customers like and what they do not like. But that does not tell me what children want, does it? Parents do not tell others what their children really like - or maybe they just do not know because the children do not tell their parents the truth..." He carefully studied Tony's reaction. The child hid his hands in his pockets and shrugged, grinning sheepishly. Erik laughed. "You have to work on your pokerface, my boy..."

He could have slapped himself for that sentence. What was he doing? Teach his child to lie to him so he wouldn't notice? He took a deep breath and went on: "But children to tell other children. So - I want you to talk to the children and find out what they really like and then report that to me."

The child's face fell. "Why do you assume they would talk to me?"

"Children talk to other children easier than to adults," Erik explained and made a mental note to have at last three men watch Tony when he would really run around in the park. Squelch hadn't recovered by then - Attamamma and Irene would have to take over, he didn't trust his other employees enough to watch his child. And Squelch would have a hard time explaining why he allowed Tony to ride in a gallop race and even before that allowed Tony to train the horse!

"But why do you assume I get along with children just because I am one? Do you get along with all men just because you are one? And Granny gets along with no woman except Mama, and she is a woman!"

Erik had to smile at his son's logic. He was absolutely right. Why did adults always assume children would get along just because they were children when adults certainly wouldn't. "Good point, Tony. No one can get along with everyone else. But I want you to try nevertheless."

"No!"

"Tony!"

"No!"

"Mr. Antoine Y! I am your father and you will obey me!"

"Or what? Are you trying to slay me again?"

Erik slumped back in his chair, staring at his son who was sitting on a chair on the opposite site of his desk. Usually everyone sitting on that chair in a business conference with him would be nervous and intimidated by sitting in the dark room - Erik had electric light but he deliberately used to shut the window shutters and lit only a few strategically placed oil lamps that would make him look taller and cast a dark flickering shadow on the wall behind him to add to the uncanny atmosphere in his office. Only all the theatrical staging of himself as some sort of uncanny overlord was completely useless before the six year old child who called him Daddy. "Tony, as I told you, you deserved punishment for being disrespectful. I only apologized for hitting you too hard."

"I do not want to. You can't force me!"

"I can and I will!" Erik was close to losing his temper again. This kid was absolutely ill-behaved and disrespectful! No one dared to talk back to him like this! No one but his own offspring. He gnashed his teeth and tried to calm himself, Tony must have noticed the warning signs and kept silent. With a sigh Erik tried it again. "Tony, you claim to want to help me and you claim that you are like an adult."

Tony nodded.

"Very well, then it is time for another lecture. A man cannot always do whatever he likes to do. Sometimes one has to do what is necessary."

"Like cleaning the chamber-pots?" Tony asked, thinking of what an unwanted, disgusting job might be.

"Yes. Just think of how our flats would stink if the chamber-pots weren't cleaned. Before we moved to this flat with indoor-plumbing of course."

"But... isn't that a woman's job?"

Erik rolled his eyes. Just great. "Tony, not every unpleasant job can be given to women."

"Why?"

O no, not this again! Erik got up and started pacing his room, even around his child who still showed no signs of being intimidated. Tony knew very well that if he kept asking enough questions his father would eventually run out of logical answers, all adults did eventually. Only his father lasted much longer in that game than everyone else, even longer than Joe who lasted as long as he was tall...

"Tony, did I ever tell you how your mother and I came to America?" Erik asked, trying to find some way to convince his child.

"Only that you came from Paris," Tony replied happily. He loved it when his father told stories. They were better than every adventure novel he got.

And Erik told him. Not in every detail, but he told him how hard it was, how he was forced to put himself on display in a demeaning way, how he struggled to survive and did things that brought discredit upon himself and he would have to live with that shame for the rest of his life. He did not tell about the terrible crimes he committed, he did not want his son to know. Only that he was nothing but a sideshow freak and a thief. "I did what I had to do, even if I absolutely hated that job. That is how one survives in this world."

"But now you do not have to do any jobs you do not like?" Tony asked.

Erik sighed. "I still have many jobs I hate. I hate business meetings, I hate having to deal with authorities, I hate socializing. If I could do what I want to do I would be composing operas and concerts and manage an opera house or a concert hall."

"But you have this amusement park with two theaters?" Tony didn't understand the problem.

Erik nodded. "Yes, and I am grateful for everything I do have. But this does not mean I can enjoy myself all day long. Of course I can compose good music, but I have so much work to do I only get few hours a months to compose just something that is to my liking and has no other purpose than pleasing me."

Tony looked down at the floor as he thought about his father's story and his words. "So... if I want to help you I have to be nice to people I despise?" he asked.

Erik wanted to sigh but repressed it. "Yes," he stated, "And the sooner you learn that, the better. Sometimes... one gets a nice surprise. Your mother was scared of me at first and hated me... but she learned to love me. I never thought I could trust anyone, but now I have friends and a family I love very much. It is like digging for precious stone: under thousands of tons of worthless stone there is one gem. But this one gem is worth the hard labor."

"But isn't it disappointing if you find a nice stone and it turns out to be worthless?"

"Absolutely. But that is no reason to stop digging. Once in a while you find someone who becomes a very good friend, someone you... love." His eyes became dreamlike as he conjured up an image in his mind he did not think of for years now - Christine. But she was not the only one in his heart now. He loved his child, he loved his wife and he loved his fiends. In that order.

"How much is the amount provided by the budget?" Tony asked and Erik felt his jaw slacken. "Everyone of your projects has a budget," Tony reasoned, "You pay people to masquerade as customers to spy on them and find out what they like. I need to find my own team, I cannot do this alone."

Erik just had to laugh. This child was such a genius, even only six years old he knew that he needed a budget and would have to hire a team. "Okay... how much?" he asked.

"You pay 20 dollars minimum wages a months."

"Haha, good joke, Tony. That is the wages for a woman or a child working full-time. Not for a small project that needs no more than two hours maximum a day and will be done in two weeks."

"Okay. How much?"

The child would be a really good businessman eventually. "Alright. Ten dollars."

"No. I need a team. Twenty."

"This is no time to practice your bargaining skills!"

"Why not?"

"Okay, twenty. But I want a written report in the end. You have to take down with how many kids you and your team spoke and what they liked and what they disliked. You have one month."

"Yes, sir!" Tony replied, proud that he won the bargaining and eager to escape before his father would reconsider.

Erik sat down behind his desk, chuckling as he realized that Tony had made him promise twenty dollars for the report. That little scoundrel had tricked him! At least his son would have to talk to lots of children or he would get nothing and if he hired other kids to help him, the better. Then the child would learn working in a team.

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 _TO BE CONTINUED_

 _Okay, this week I managed to upload on Monday as usual. Next chapter should be up next Monday, hopefully!_


	72. Lectures (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Lectures (cont.)**

Tony was at a loss how to begin his job. But he knew that there were always adults watching over him - as if he didn't know his father always had someone watch him, that was why he had told Squelch that it was his father's order that he taught him riding and the good-natured strongman hadn't thought Tony would be lying to him. Especially because to Squelch it was the most natural thing in the world that children of both genders learned riding at about three and would do some risky stunts at the age of six.

The tall doctor wasn't very happy as Tony asked him how one approaches children if he wants them to do his bidding. "Can't you ask you parents?"

"Daddy does not know himself, Mama is busy and Granny's methods of bullying everyone won't work," Tony explained, then told the doctor of the agreement with his father. "You see, I want a team to help me or I would have to talk to all of these spoiled brats myself!"

"I see," the doctor replied and continued to put on his stage make-up, "I would try ask the children of the employees. I'm sure they'd be eager to earn a dollar." Plus, they would not dare be disrespectful to Tony because they knew he was the son of their employer - it could cost their parent's jobs if they treated him badly. Better make Tony's first experiment to talk to other children on an eye-to-eye level easy. A bad first experience could backfire. Erik should have known that Tony was very young and small for his age! If his first experience talking to children would result in him being mocked or beaten he would never try again!

"Where can I find them?" Tony asked, knowing that the employee's kids were not allowed to use the various attractions of the amusement park because they couldn't afford to pay the price.

"Usually they play ball near the warehouses after school," the doctor replied.

"Thank you!" Tony rushed off.

The doctor made a mental note to tell Erik that he should solve the problems with his family alone - a doctor is a doctor, a master of ceremony is a master of ceremony and he surely did not need a third job has private tutor!

* * *

Tony was very nervous when he went to see the children, even with Attamamma, Fleck and Vincent trying to shadow him. He wondered why his father still thought he wouldn't know if there were several bodyguards around him. Of course he knew! He wore one of his suits and a hat, even a tiny walking cane, just like his father. Like his father he had a lasso in his vest and hidden in the walking cane was a small sword. Only that he didn't have a mask, he had blonde hair and blue eyes. He didn't need a mask, his face was perfect like his mother's.

Tony watched the other children kicking a piece of trash over an open space next to the warehouse. They had put up two goals - just crude sticks in the ground - and played some sort of soccer game. What nonsense! What good is the skill of kicking an empty tin-can around in the dirt? But they seemed to have fun, they were five boys and three girls of various ages, the youngest being about six, the oldest about twelve.

"Hello?" Tony asked nervously playing with his cane.

The other children stopped their game and stared at him. "Why does he look so odd?" one of the smaller girls asked.

"Hush! That's the master's son!" the oldest boy rebuked her and took off his cap, "Good day, sir!"

They greeted him politely like they would with adults, but of course did not know what to do with this strange child. They knew he was doing his own little magic show, of course they had heard that he won the horse-race - he didn't win, he placed third, but the story was even better if one told he won - and was even seen driving the large black car. To them he was one of the freaks - and they knew the rule: the freaks are the master's family. Be polite and treat them well or we are fired.

"Do you want to earn a dollar?" Tony asked, thinking the direct approach would be best.

"Of course! What do we have to do?"

"Just talk to other children."

"Just talk? No kidding?"

"Yes. You'll have to masquerade as customer-kids and mix with them to find out what they like and what they dislike. Then you report to me. I need precise information with how many children you spoke and what they said. Two dollars for each one of you," Tony informed them. It was an easy calculation: he had 20 budget, including him that would be 2,22 if he chose to share equitable, but as the foreman of this team he thought he had a right to get more. So 2 for each child and 4 for him.

"But how could we dress like the upper class children?" the oldest girl asked, "We do not have anything like they do."

"Right... come with me!"

Tony took them to the Princess Hall and the Men's Playground, telling the employees to give the girls a princess dress and the boys the usual clothing for the playground. With these clothing they could easily mix with the others in the halls. "Don't forget to report to me this evening or you get nothing at all!" he warned them.

Tony was pleased with his idea that he would not have to interact with the spoiled brats of the upper class - they were cry-babies, all of them. The other children, those who worked or were children of workers, were far more to his taste, even if he considered them far beneath him because he was much cleverer than they were. Unfortunately he was disappointed when they met again. The other's couldn't give him a real report. They did not remember the precise number of children they had spoken and played with, they did not know how old they were and they did not remember everything the other's had said.

"And how am I to write a report from that?" Tony demanded, "How am I to know what they like and dislike if you can't give me precise numbers?"

"You didn't say we had to," the oldest boy replied. He had enjoyed this afternoon greatly, being allowed to use the playground, the carussel, the beach, see the Hall of Wonders...

Tony yelled at them much like his father did when something went wrong: "You stupid idiots! I didn't tell you because I thought it was obvious! But obviously you aren't educated enough to do any good!"

"Hey, you can't talk to us like this!"

"I can and I will. Now, how do we make up for this nonsense? Any ideas?" Tony demanded, "For without a report no one will get any money."

"We could try again tomorrow," the oldest girl suggested, "Or at the weekend, when even more children are there. And... we could report regularly so you can take your stupid notes and we won't forget much."

"I'll give it a try," Tony agreed, "But we really do it all weekend! Saturday morning to Sunday evening!"

The others agreed. One weekend for free in the amusement park! Of course they would do this! This was even better than the two dollars they were promised.

"Mr. Y, sir, why are the numbers so important?" the youngest girl asked.

"I can't write a reliable report without precise numbers," Tony explained, "It is called statistics. It tells us what they like best and what we could do better."

"But they told us! We already know what they want!"

"No, you don't. You know what an unknown number of unknown children want. That's unreliable. It makes a difference if two out of ten like something or nine out of ten."

"You like maths?"

"I love maths!" Tony exclaimed, "It is, unlike human behavior, logical."

"I hate maths. I do not understand the stupid math's class and our teacher just calls us stupid, lazy and bad and uses the rod but he can't explain it either. He can just write down examples on the blackboard," a girl complained.

"I guess he's just copying them from some book," one of the younger boys chuckled.

"Can you show me your books?" Tony asked, curious what children - most of them older than him - would not understand in class. "Maybe I can help you. I can do accounting on a cash basis and trigonometry. I have to admit that I can not calculate ellipses."

* * *

Of course Erik was informed how his child would work on this task. He immediately told Meg who was excited that Tony finally did talk with children of his age even if he didn't play but worked with them and helped them with their homework. At least he finally accepted that children were no little monsters but could become friends! Maybe they would eventually teach him to play and have some fun!

Tony proudly presented his report to his father one week before the deadline. Erik had to acknowledge that but informed his son that he overrun his budget.

"Why?" Tony protested.

"Because, Mr. Antoine Y, you gave them free tickets and clothing and promised them two dollars each. That is much more than twenty dollars!" he reminded his son.

"But Daddy, you always overrun your budget in each and every project because some unpredictable problems occur!"

Erik didn't know if he ought to laugh or to scold his child. "I established a bad example," he confessed, "But what do I usually do if I overrun my budget?"

"Some ingenious financial fraud? Extortion?"

The correct answer would be yes, but Erik could only stare at his son. There was this six year old boy speaking of fraud and extortion like it was the most normal thing in the world. He should have been much more careful with his adventure stories, he rebuked himself. He should never have told his child of his past, never! And certainly not like being a criminal was just a funny game. "No," he hissed between clenched teeth, "Certainly not! Tony, if I overrun my budget, I have to get a loan and pay installments."

"But Mama says you're never going to pay the 100.000 to that aristocratic beau," Tony complained, "So why would I have to pay back a loan?"

Erik buried his face in his hands and rested his elbows on his desk. He had wanted to teach his child a lecture - and now he found himself on the receiving end. "Tony! Please understand that there are rules that have to be obeyed!"

"Why?"

Erik felt a terrible headache building behind his temples. "Because otherwise you are going to be punished. I do not want to be punished, I have to obey even if I think the law is absurd. And that's why one has to pay his debts - if one doesn't, he's sued and then his property is seized and sold to pay his debt and if that isn't enough he might be send to debtor's prison."

"Then... why aren't you in prison?" Tony asked thoughtfully, "Is it because you are too clever and they never caught you? Or so dangerous they do not dare defying you?"

"No!" Erik exclaimed shocked, making his child flinch, "No... Tony... I... I am... I try my best to be an honest man now, because I truly believe that... being a good man is much better than being bad. Really. Even if... you might not understand that now... one day you will."

"Now that's a stupid explanation," Tony replied, his eyes wide, "Why don't you just tell me the real reason?"

Erik sighed. "You know what a conscience is?"

"Yes, that thrilling feeling if I get caught or not."

Erik felt like banging his head against a wall. "No, Tony, that is not right. It is... painful. I am deeply ashamed of some of the things I did in my life, so ashamed, I do not dare tell you."

"That terrible?"

Erik nodded and lowered his eyes. "I pray to God that you never experience that feeling," he said seriously.

"Then I want to become a good man, like you, Daddy!" Tony said, got up and kissed his father's cheek before leaving the office. He knew he better left his father alone when he was in this strange mood - he might snap and become angry any moment now.

"I hope you will become a better man than me..." Erik whispered.

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 _Thank you for reading! Please review! Next chapter will be up next week._


	73. Letters

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Letters**

With much encouraging from his parents Tony finally, finally formed some kind of friendship with the other children. They liked him because he was a good maths teacher, even for the boy who was twice his age, and if he didn't understand something he looked it up in his books and knew how to explain it two days later. Tony had access to all these things they didn't - he could get them sweets, drinks and free tickets for the fun-rides. He was weird, but then, this was Coney Island and it was Mr. Y's park. This meant the words "odd" and "weird" had a whole new meaning.

Tony knew that they accepted him because they wanted the free tickets he could give them, but then, he was just spending time with them so his parents would not dare threatening him with school again. And he found out that he could even talk to customers, the more time he spent around children, the easier it was. He soon found his role in their group - the weird outsider, a library on two legs who could provide any information they wanted, the entertainer who always knew a story or a magic trick.

Meg was fine with that. Tony accepted being a child and sometimes even had fun. His reports - they became a regular task for him since he had to make up for overrunning the budget - turned out to be interesting. At first Erik had just praised them but ignored them. But in summer Tony demanded to know why his suggestions were being ignored - he had found out that the children of customers wanted more mechanical marvels they could touch, use and play with.

"I didn't have time..." Erik explained uncomfortably.

"Then why did we work three months to find out what they like if you don't have time? You still didn't rename the park!" Tony complained, "What's keeping you?"

"I will do this... in spring, when we have opening night. You may help Vincent with the new signboard, if you like to."

"But you will build a new wonder for the Hall of Wonders? Something they can touch, use and play with?"

"I will... what do you think of a carousel that does not only go round but up and down too?"

"That's nothing new. You already have one with the painted horses!"

"Yes, but this one would make the carousel horses go really high up - about four or five meters? And the rider would be able to control the hight?"

"Wow. That sounds great. But... do not make it horses. Make it something more interesting: sharks, dragons, harpies..."

"Since when are horses not interesting?" Erik barely trusted his ears.

"Wooden horses are so cliche," Tony replied, "And that is not my idea. It is Brian's. And Lucy thinks that a higher roller coaster would be fun."

"What do you think of a miniature roller coaster serving you cookies?" Erik asked, not wanting to invest in a higher roller coaster - the one he had was hard enough to maintain without risking accidents. A roller coaster accident could likely end fatal.

"Sounds good. Like a restaurant with automated servants?"

"Now that is impossible, unfortunately. But I could put up a machine that serves cookies which come down a funny roller coaster in one of the cafes. The drinks would have to be served by normal waiters, I'm afraid. But every table could have its own tiny railway and one could watch the food coming from the kitchen upstairs in tiny cars. Good idea, Tony, and... if you finish the new signboard for 'Fantasia' we could give a re-name-party at your birthday in September. Would you like that?"

* * *

September came and Tony and the idea of the re-naming party turned out to be a very good idea to draw customers in. The tickets for that day were sold out weeks before the party and only available at exorbitant prices in some sort of black market. Or so the rumors were. In truth Erik had divided the number of tickets: 50% would be sold regularly, 10% would be given for free to important men - journalists who might write some nice article about the park, politicians, high ranking police officers, taxmen, judges and prosecutors - with a special greeting card Erik send one to Jonathan deMer hoping he would understand that this was a joke and not bribery - and 40% went to the 'black market' Erik himself organized. So the 'illegal black market ticket sellers' were in truth his employees so he would take that business away from the real illegal ticket sellers who bought larger numbers of tickets speculating the performance would be sold out and rich people eager to get tickets - the higher the price and the harder to get, the more people wanted one.

* * *

There was another discussion about the name. Tony had tried to look up how to spell Fantasia - he didn't want to make mistakes when writing the signboard - and had found another word in the large Encyclopedia Britannica he found in his father's library.

"Daddy, don't you think 'Fantasia' leaves too much to the customer's fantasy? They might be disappointed if we promise to fulfill their dreams. We can't fulfill everyone's dream says Mama," Tony informed Erik, "Vincent, Benny and I already talked about it. Benny thinks 'Phantasma' would be the better word, because a phantasm is an illusion, a hallucination, a ghost or a dream - and this is so much about illusion!"

"Your idea or Benny's?" Erik asked, raising one eyebrow. Tony tended to present ideas he liked as his.

"Mine," Tony exclaimed proudly and held up a piece of paper with a sketch of the signboard. "Phantasma" in a beautiful calligraphy, the letters silver and gold on a midnight blue background with stars.

"Yours?" Erik asked, even more mistrustful. He knew his son's handwriting was even worse than his own. This was clearly not Tony's writing and not his design.

"Of course!" Tony indignantly insisted. If anyone else had seen the boy like this he would believe it. Only Erik knew that Tony was like him in this - the child told a lie with the same convincement as a lie, that's what made him such a good showman.

"Tony, this cannot be yours alone," Erik reasoned with a weary sigh, "You are good, but... unpracticed. This looks like Vincent's painting."

"He helped," Tony replied without even blinking, "A little."

"It looks like all of this is Vincent's doing," Erik insisted, trying to get his child to tell the truth, "You are lying to me. Tony, what did I tell you about lies? They are good to fool idiots but we do not lie to family members or friends because no one likes a liar."

"So you tell the truth every time you speak with me, Mama or Granny?" Tony shot back.

Erik tried not to slap him for that audacity. The more he tried to educate his child the more he felt like giving him a good trashing and be done with it. "Tony, we do not lie to a family member and we do not lie to Squelch, Joe, Irene, Attamamma, Vincent, Benny, Suzie, Tilly - is that clear?"

Tony grinned and Erik didn't like it. That ungrateful brat had obviously caught him lying to someone. "So you were in a business conference yesterday?" Tony triumphantly asked, "You did not go to the adult's theater?"

"That's enough! That's five lashes!" Erik couldn't help himself. He had to use punishment to bring the child in line again.

"What for? Saying the truth?"

Erik understood that beating Tony wouldn't do any good - except if he wanted to teach him that he would be punished for saying uncomfortable truth. "It was Tilly's birthday and I went there to celebrate with her," he admitted, "In a way that was a business dinner."

"In a way that is my design," Tony replied with a triumphant grin.

"Mr. Antoine Y! Tell the truth or you go to school tomorrow!"

"Well... Benny said Phantasma was better and Vincent did the painting - but I selected the colors!"

Erik burst into laughter. "O Tony... How do I teach you ethics? You need to learn that somehow... I'll appoint Joe your ethic's teacher!" When Tony had no argument against Joe as his ethics teacher he suddenly wasn't sure this was the right way to get Tony learn about morality and the difference between good and bad.

* * *

The re-naming party was a really great success. Only Erik noticed that one person wasn't happy and that was Meg. "What is it, my dear?" he asked, wondering why she was so unhappy when her dancing and then the magic show Erik did with Tony as his partner was such a great success. "We are making more money than ever. I think we need some special events every so often, this is very good for business!"

"It's not that... I... have to tell you something," she said in a tone that told him he wouldn't like it.

"My office," he suggested. They couldn't have a martial quarrel in public.

* * *

Meg noticed how carefully Erik closed the window shutters and lit the oil lamps. The darkness covered the mess Meg knew was there - papers were all over the place and even on the floor. Erik tried to do far too many things at the same time. She smiled as she even saw pencils and coins somewhere in the chaos - obviously forgotten by him when another task caught his attention.

"You do not have to stage yourself as the dark intimidating magician," she told him, "I've seen you in my mother's old pink nightshirt." She grinned as his face fell. It was hard to act as the uncanny sorcerer when all she could think of was him in that damned pink shirt!

"Maybe you would have preferred to see me naked?" he snapped irritated.

"At that time - definitely now. Now... well..." she spread her hands grinning.

"Meg, what do you want? I know you, you did something I won't like. What is it? How much will it cost me?" Why did Meg choose this day to confess something to him she knew he would hate? How long had she waited to do this?

"It is... Might I remind you that you cheated on me?"

Erik stared at her. "Why are you bringing this up now? It's so long ago," he replied, wondering why she had to remind him, did she betray him? Was that it - she had betrayed him and was pregnant?

Meg fidgeted on her seat. "Well... you know that I am writing letters to Christine. I told her of the grand opening we plan for the next spring."

"And...?" Erik was more than mistrustful.

"They wrote back that they wanted to come to New York anyways so they will be there for the opening. They... even reserved two suits in the hotel. The concierge just confirmed getting the telegram."

"You... practically **invited** them?" he gasped, struggling to control his breathing, "How could you? They think I am dead! If they find out who I am... o God! The Vicomte will run directly to the authorities! My pardon only goes for America, if France demands me to be send there in chains to face trial and punishment no one will deny them!"

"I do not think they will do that..."

"You did not think at all, is that it?" he jumped to his feet, yelling at her. She flinched and held up her arms to protect herself, expecting to feel his hand any moment now. He did not slap her right away, he had learned to control his temper enough not to strike anyone while he was so enraged he might really hurt her. He told her in a rather colorful language why this was the most stupid idea she ever had. When finally the blow hit the back of her head it wasn't so hard she would call it painful - it was more the humiliation of being slapped that brought tears to her eyes.

His rage spent he sat behind his desk again, breathing hard after his outburst. He had to open his collar, he needed air. "Now... how do we tell them not to come?" he asked, trying to figure out a way to keep them from seeing him.

Meg shook her head. "Christine wrote that they already booked the passage," she informed him, "No way of turning them down now." She took the paper out of her bag and handed it to him. Erik took his time reading it and Meg noticed with growing unease how his features grew soft as he saw Christine's delicate handwriting. Christine... maybe this was a way to see her again, to see how she was, if she was really as happy with the Vicomte... maybe he could even persuade her to sing again. To hear her voice... It was such a shame she had retired from stage once she was married!

" **You** will explain to her why I am alive and you are my wife. And **you** will explain it to them before they arrive in this park! I do not care when or how you do it, just do it!" Erik ordered in a voice that left no option for any disagreement.

"Erik... what if he asks about his 100.000?" Meg asked, wondering what she could possibly answer then.

"I have no idea. I do not have that much money in cash. It is in the new building for my employees, the addition to the tunnel of horrors, the new shows, the pleasure cruise ship... I'm sorry, but he will have to wait a little longer."

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	74. Reunion

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Reunion**

Meg noticed with much discomfort a certain change in Erik as soon as he accepted that he would see Christine again. He spend more time in his music room at the piano and the music he played was nothing he would ever stage in one of his theaters, it was much more like opera music. He was - as much as Meg could tell - composing arias and duets for an opera. He was even singing some of the pieces himself. She had almost forgotten what wonderful voice he had - Erik seldom sang nowadays.

Erik chose lunch at Christmas day to ask Meg how far she was in her attempt to break the news to Christine gently.

"Christine?" Antoinette asked mistrustful, "What about her?"

"Didn't your daughter tell you? The de Chagny family booked a passage to New York. They will attend to the Spring Opening and the Renaming," Erik explained as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Antoinette nearly suffered a heart attack. "Are you mad?" she berated her daughter, "You know what trouble Christine's presence here will cause!"

"But Granny, here are no chandeliers Daddy could throw at her if she annoys him," Tony tried to comfort her, he knew perfectly well what they were talking about - except that he didn't have a concept for the love adults would feel for each other, "And if they bother us, we can lock them up beneath the tunnel of horrors until they do what they are told to do."

Meg and her mother glared at Erik, who asked innocently: "I have absolutely no idea what gives the boy these curious ideas."

* * *

Spring came far too soon for Meg. She still had no idea how to tell Christine who her husband Mr. Erik Y really was. She decided that it would be best to tell them when she would go to greet them in the harbor.

Antoinette Giry was very worried. She knew the effect Christine had on Erik and she was afraid he might try to get her back somehow, even if he was married and she was married. Adultery or even murder was nothing Erik would not do to get what he wanted and if he again tried to get Christine to become his wife he would have to get rid of Meg. She did not think Erik would harm his child, but her daughter was in grave danger, even if Meg told her mother that she trusted Erik not do something like that. But even Meg was worried, she knew if Erik wanted to get rid of her he could simply ask for divorce and accuse her of adultery. She knew he could always ask his friends to testify against her.

They could not know this, but Erik was scared of meeting Christine again. He had suffered for years until he finally was able to live again, it had been his child who enabled him to really let her go, to accept that she would never be his. He even knew now that his attempt to make Christine fall in love with him was mad. How could he hope for any relationship to develop when it was all based on a lie? Maybe he would have had a better chance had he approached her in the disguise of a beggar sitting on the sidewalk playing the violin for coins. Maybe pity would have been the key - as it was with Meg. But he had learned too late in his life that even weakness and humiliation could be turned to strength.

Tony didn't really understand the problem at all. Another family of pampered European aristocrats - it caused Tony to make some commends about how clever Americans were to have no aristocracy. Erik didn't tell him that they had, only that they didn't have titles. The money one had would decide about the social rank and of course the rank was hereditary with the fortune. There were mighty and rich clans and they could very well influence politics. But Erik didn't want to engage in these schemes. He just wanted to be left in peace. His enterprizes were large enough to give him a comfortable income and good life, he didn't want more. As long as the world left him in peace he would leave them in peace.

* * *

The day was finally there, three days before the Spring Opening. Erik instructed Dr. Gängelmann and Squelch to take the car to drive the de Chagny family to Phantasma. Christine had written a nice letter who would come: Raoul and herself plus their five children. Gustave, Aveline, Melisande, and the twins Guinevere and Pierette. Plus the governess who was taking care of the children, the private tutor and a butler. What a decent family needs when travelling. Of course they had booked a suite for themselves and the largest one for children and servants.

* * *

Meg and the tall doctor took the car to drive to the harbor and greet them. Meg was very nervous. "Dr. Gangle..." she began.

"Gängelmann! My name is... o, forget it! Call me Gangle if you like," he sighed unnerved and made good use of the horn Erik had installed. The horn had a really terrible sound that usually caused the horses around to shy away from the car - which was clearly what it was for. Erik wanted them to clear the street for him and seldom cared if spooked horses would cause accidents as long as these accidents happened behind him. And the doctor wasn't a better driver than Erik was - Erik, always expecting someone to attack him, at least was always vigilant while the doctor drove the car as if there were no others in the streets.

"Is the car large enough? I mean... a family with four children plus three servants and God knows how many wardrobe trunks in this car?"

"There are always cabs and carts for hire near the harbor," Johann replied, "We just take the family and the servants can come with the cab and one or two carts..."

"Two? You think they need two carts to transport their luggage?"

"French aristocrats - I wouldn't be surprised if they need a train to transport their luggage!" The tall Prussian doctor clearly didn't like French noblemen. "Where's Erik?"

Meg sighed. "Problably still with his head in a bowl. You know how he is - when he's nervous his stomach turns like a caroussel!"

"As long as he does not take drugs to calm down, I'm fine with that."

* * *

Meg was very nervous as she was standing at the gate with many others who were waiting for people from Europe to arrive in America. There were so many people departing the ship, Meg wondered if she would be able to see Christine - and if they would recognize each other. It had been so long since they last saw each other.

She looked for the first class passengers and there they were - she saw them immediately. Christine hadn't changed much. She was still the beautiful grazile women she had been almost ten years ago. She didn't wear her hair down or only tied back with some ribbons - she had her dark brown hair done in a complicated fashion that required the assistence of a coiffeur. The dress she wore was height of fashion in Paris and surely she needed the help of a maid to get dressed or undressed. Meg looked down at herself. She wore a dress like many women in New York did - not working class but nothing too expensive and surely something she could put on alone or could get out of easily when she had to change for her show.

Next to Christine was Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny. He wore a dark grey suit and a top hat like most other male passengers of the first class on that steamship. He didn't look like a boy any more, he looked like a man now, a beautiful man. They had their children with them. The oldest boy, Gustave, was eight years and some months old. He was rather tall for a boy his age and chubby, he was blonde and blue eyed like his father and he wore a grey suit and a top hat - he looked like he was trying to copy his father. The oldest girl, Aveline, looked like a younger version of Christine, she was as old as Tony, seven since last September. She didn't look happy, wearing a blue dress and white shoes, she looked frightened by the many people and large ship, the many carriages waiting for passengers. The third child, Melisande, was blonde but with dark eyes. She wore a green dress and the governess had to hold her hand in a firm grip or she would have run away to explore something that caught her interest. Whatever it was that would interest a five years old child. Melisande was rather heavy for a girl and her stockings were dirty as if she had been crawling around somewhere. The twins Guinevere and Pierette were only three years old and looked like a perfect mixture of father and mother. They looked so much alike, they wore different colored hats to make it easier to tell them apart. The home teacher held the two three years old girls on his hands.

Behind them was the butler with two suitcases, but Meg was sure this was just what they considered most necessary. The rest of the luggage would be unloaded by workers later and delivered to the hotel.

"Christine!" Meg called out and Christine's face changed to a bright smile as she recognized her old friend.

"Meg!" The two women embraced. Christine didn't say that Meg's appearance shocked her. Meg was her age, but she looked at least ten years older than her now. She was heavier, muscular, the training had made her legs thick with muscles and her hips broader while shoulders and breasts were still rather small. Her face wasn't a noble pale but tanned due to many hours spend at the beach in the sun, even now in early spring and the skin around her eyes and her lips was slightly wrikled - worry lines and too many sleepless nights had caused her to age far before her time.

"Madame, Monsieur," Dr. Gängelmann said, taking off his hat but he bowed so slightely he made absolutely sure he considered himself at least at their social level.

"Christine, this is Dr. Gangle, the medical doctor in my husband's park and the master of ceremony - and our son's ethics teacher," Meg introduced the tall doctor. While the children - especially the twins - gawked rudely Raoul and Christine were perfectly polite and greeted the man a if they wouldn't even notice his size. But they couldn't help laughing as Guinevere fell on her back trying to look up to the doctor's top hat. Meg and Dr. Gangle laughed while Christine and Raoul ignored it - and the governess berated the children for being rude and staring.

"They will see much more remarkable people in Phantasma than Giant Joe," Meg explained, "Our chief designer has no hands - he's drawing with his feet and head of the costume department is the He-She who is neither male nor female but something in-between. They will see many curious people."

"Freaks?" Raoul asked, "I thought freak shows were so old-fashioned?"

"No... we do not have a freak show and please do not use the word 'freak'. They are my husband's most trusted friends and - except mother who is ballet mistress - the executive team consists only of... these special people," Meg explained, shifting a bit uncomfortable under the tall doctors disapproving glance.

"Mesdames, Messieurs... this way please. We are going by car, your servants and the luggage will be following with a carriage," Johann told them.

"A car? We are going by car?" Gustave was excited and Aveline cried and protested that she didn't want to go by car because she was scared of everything that had to do with engineering.

"I'll drive carefully," Dr. Gangle informed them.

* * *

They drove in convoy. The car with Joe as the driver, Meg, Christine, Raoul and Gustave and Squelch at first, then the carriage with the girls and the servants and at last a large horse-drawn carriage with the luggage. Meg was absolutely sure as soon as they were in the park Joe would spread word about the real oddities - a family travelling with servants and at least two or three wardrobe trunks per person - even the children. Who would do that? Surely they would change their clothing for breakfast, for morning, for lunch, for dinner and surely for the evening. He thought the children had different clothing for each game they would be allowed to play.

The closer they came to the park, the quieter Meg became - even Raoul noticed that she was sitting stiff and looking out of the windows nervously, but he was too polite to ask.

When they came closer, they saw the wall Erik had erected around his property - it was four meters high and looked a bit like the walls of a middle age fortress. In truth it was just wood and colour, the wall was just to prevent people from seeing any interesting things without paying the entrance fee. The park itself was devided in various sections by smaller fences - the family area, the beach, the dark area beginning behind the tunnel of horrors. The tunnel of horrors was large enough to be seen from almost everywhere - Erik took pride in having the largest tunnel of horrors in the world and as soon as one challenged him he added a new module to enlarge it.

Gustave was impressed by the large door as they drove through it, servants in elegant suits took off their hats and bowed to them, showing respect for the guests - and Meg.

Christine couldn't ignore her friend's distress any longer. "Meg, dear, what is it? You are so pale..."

"There is something I didn't tell you..." Meg confessed awkwardly and clutched her handbag to her breast like it was a shield, "My husband..." Looking out of the window she could see the hotel and she could see Erik and Tony waiting for them in front of the hotel. "...wears a mask."

"Mask?" Christine and Raoul gasped, suddenly both saw the horrible white mask that still haunted them in their nightmares. The moment the car stopped they noticed that it had not been an illusion - they had really seen a man in the mask!

"Meg... I do not understand..." Christine whispered horrified.

"It is true, my friends," Meg confessed, staring at her shoes, "My husband Mr. Erik Y is... **HIM**."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _to be continued_


	75. Reunion (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Reunion (cont.)**

Tony didn't understand why they were making such a fuss about the arrival of an aristocratic family. He had to wear his best suit of black velvet, a white tie with a cravat needle with a diamond, looking exactly like a smaller copy of his father - except that he didn't have a mask. But he had a hat and an elegant walking cane that was in truth the sheath of his rapier. Erik's cane contained a similar weapon, although it was much larger. Both had two lassos hidden in their vests. Teaching his child to defend himself with or without weapons was very important for Erik - and kept secret because they knew Meg and Antoinette would forbid it immediately.

"Why are we making such a fuss? They are just aristocrats!" Tony spat with all the contempt an American patriot could have.

"Tony! Christine is the best soprano in the world, even if she retired from stage!" Erik berated him, "And she is your mother's closest friend, so kindly behave around them!"

Tony grunted.

"Mr. Antoine Y!" Erik's voice held a warning undertone as he looked down at his child at his side.

"Mr. Erik Y, kindly call me Anthony or Tony but not Antoine! I'm none of these haughty sissies!"

Erik slapped the back of Tony's head. "No prejudice! Meet them, greet them, get to know them and then judge them. Understood?"

"O no! Please tell me I do not have to socialize with their spoiled brats!"

"One more word and you'll have to socialize with the whip!"

* * *

When they saw the car and the two carriages behind it approach - a car couldn't go faster than a carriage, it could go about 10-12 km/h while a horse could easily go at 40 km/h, Chocolate even at more than 60 km/h - Erik shuddered and straightened his back. As he tried to stand upright like a soldier his knees gave a cracking sound. It didn't hurt but sometimes it bothered him that his knees made these sounds. It gave away how old he was. Tony grinned.

The small convoy came to a halt and for some endless moments nothing happened. Raoul and Christine needed to recover from the shock of having seen a ghost - quite literally - and Meg was scared of their reaction and of Erik's, whom she had told that Christine and Raoul knew who he was because she had explained everything in a letter. Well, the letter was written, but it still lay in the drawer of her vanity.

Raoul got out of the car first, taking a position to protect his family should Erik try something suspicious. In Raoul's eyes breathing was a very suspicious movement and he would have loved to use self-defence then and there - but he had not forgotten that the last time he had tried to fight the Phantom he hadn't done well. Christine got out next, then Meg and then Gustave. At the same time the servants and the girls climbed out of the carriage. Aveline was crying because she had been sick during the travel, the twins had soiled themselves and Gustave made a face, happy that he had not taken the carriage with his sisters.

Erik stood unmoving like a marble statue as he saw Christine. He felt as if the last years had not happened at all - she was still the same perfect beauty she had always been and he felt that his love fr her was still there and as strong as t had been before. He would have loved to throw himself at her feet and tell her how much he loved and adored her - but he could not do that, not in public, not before his child - and her children. And he didn't trust his knees. Kneeling when he was not sure he would get to his feet elegantly was no good idea.

Christine managed a weak smile, but she was shocked at seeing him. He was not the frightening Phantom any more - the hardships of the last years had taken their toll on him and even if he was close to sixty he looked much older. The uncovered half of his face was wrikled and had some freckles, his hands too were covered in wrinkled skin with freckles. Far too many hours sitting hunched behind his desk or his piano had left his shoulders slightly bend forward and the maid's cooking and too many business dinners had caused him to grow a belly. He wasn't fat, he just had a small belly that was clearly visible. There was something in his stance that made her worry he might be ill. He looked so tired, weary, so... old. In Paris she had never asked herself how old she was, now she knew that he didn't even know his birthday but he was about sixty according to Meg - but he looked much older. The white mask and the black wig couldn't cover that he was an old man now.

Raoul too noticed that the Phantom didn't look as terrifying as he had in the cellars of the Opera here in the sunlight before the hotel. He was just an old man in a mask, nothing more. At his side was a small boy, Raoul knew the boy was the same age as his oldest daughter, but the boy was so very small and gaunt with pale skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. The Vicomte could not hide his pride as he looked at his children - he had five healthy and well-educated children, his old rival had only one child and that looked rather sickly.

"Welcome to Phantasma," Dr. Gängelmann switched to his master-of-ceremony act as he sensed that no one else was able to say a word, "May I show you to your suites?"

"That's my daddy's text!" Tony protested, he could not imagine why his father was late in delivering his line but he hated the doctor acting like he was the boss here.

Meg laughed nervously as she noticed the sneer on Raoul's face and the disapproval in the governess's. A child should never speak unless spoken to and certainly not tell adults what to do. Her son had just proven that he was one of the most rude American children the society in Europe frowned upon. Christine smiled politely and tried to overlook everything, tried to keep up her act as being just a friend happy to see an old friend again - even if she felt like running away crying.

Erik finally managed to clear his throat and greet his guests with a polite bow. "Wellcome," he said, suddenly at a loss of words, "May I introduce you to my son Anthony Y? Anthony, this is the Vicomte de Chagny and Christine..."

"Madame de Chagny!" Raoul corrected him icily.

They glared at each other and suddenly Erik did no longer look old and tired - he looked like he would strangle the Vicomte then and there. Squelch stood ready to interfere on the doctor's signal - wondering if he should help his master or help restraining his master before he did something he would regret later.

"Thank you, Monsieur le Vicomte, for reminding me," Erik replied with mock politeness, "I guess you and Madame want to recover from the long and certainly strenous journey. Then I would love to invite you to have lunch with my family and me in the most advanced restaurant in the world."

When Erik showed them the way to their suites in one of the upper floors of the hotel the Vicomte hissed: "If I had known it was **you** I would never have send that money to help you! Tell me, how much of the park really belongs to me, hmm?"

"I assure you, sir, that the loan has been noted in my books," Erik replied, "But you seem to forget that you decided to include the 'pay back when conveniant' into our contract. My lawyers say that this is binding. Unfortunately right now it is most inconveniant to pay it back. You see, I need to have some debts in my books or I pay too many taxes..."

Meg and Christine, who were walking behind their husbands, didn't say anything, both nervously watching their husbands, waiting for any sign that they would go for each other's throats. But this didn't happen, they just exchanged some icy remarks. It was like both of them wanted to prove superiority somehow and therefore had to keep acting within the rules of good behavior. Even if they would have loved to go directly into a fight, they couldn't without making a fool of themselves.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _A shorter chapter now. Next chapter will be up on Monday. I'm glad I could finish this now so you do not have to wait too long. :-)_


	76. Lunch with the Enemy

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Lunch with the Enemy**

As soon as the door closed behind Raoul and Christine the Vicomte asked his wife trembling with fury: "Did you know this **bastard** was alive? Did you know it was **him** I was sending **one hundred thousand dollars**? Did you know?"

"No!" Christine exclaimed, frightened by the uncharacteristic outburst. Raoul was a gentle husband who would usually rather say nothing than risk a disagreement. Since Christine too preferred not to risk any disagreements - not even daring to mention a quarrel - they seldom even had a discussion and if they had it was only in private. "I didn't know! The last time I saw him he was close to death and knew he wouldn't make it much longer! And when Madame Giry had to flee because she was accused of being his accomplice I thought he was helpless and surely must have died! I didn't know he was with them! I didn't even know his name was Erik Y!"

"You told me Meg was married to an American, the manager of a vaudeville show!"

"That is precisely what Meg wrote," Christine defended herself, "I didn't know she was lying to me!"

Raoul sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I believe you. Obviously the monster somehow managed to make Meg his accomplice too. We... we should leave. We are not safe here!"

"I don't think Meg would ever lure us into a trap," Christine defended her friend.

"You didn't believe your 'Angel of Music' would ever harm you," Raoul reminded her bitterly, "You are still too naive and trusting."

* * *

"Why do we have to eat with these snobs?" Tony complained before Erik or Meg could even begin a quarrel, "They are so rude! No one said hello to me or shook my hand!"

"Tony, I guess they are still angry with your father for not paying back the loan," Meg tried to explain the situation.

"Is that why we have to be friendly? Because you owe him money? Daddy, just give him the money and send them away!" The child had his own idea of how to solve this situation.

Erik put on a stern face and used his most commanding voice: "Christine is your mother's and my best friend! You will treat her with respect and you will be nice to her husband and her children or you spend one year in a boarding school!"

"I promise to be polite and friendly," Tony replied and added with a grin: "As polite and friendly as you are to Madame Christine's husband." The child had obviously found a way out of his predicament - he already knew that his father hated the Vicomte, but that was so obvious, no one would be able to miss that.

Before Erik was able to tell Tony exactly what he was thinking about this, Meg cut in: "Wonderful! Then this is settled! We all have lunch together and while I show Christine the park, Tony shows the children around and you, my dear husband, could maybe settle your little misunderstanding with the Vicomte."

Erik took in a sharp breath and clenched his fists, arguing with himself if he should beat his wife and his child senseless for this audacity or try his best to be a good role model and make the child learn from his good example. "Tony, these are well-educated children. If they come after their mother I'm sure you will love them."

"If they are such dull puppets it is going to be a terribly boring afternoon," Tony complained.

"Christine isn't boring!" Meg berated him, "Don't say such things about our friends!"

"She is boring," Tony insisted, "She's so busy behaving perfectly and not annoying anyone, one doesn't even know if she's actually there. She could be one of daddy's automatons!"

"Tony! Christine is the best singer in the world! She is certainly not dull or boring and her behavior is just excellent. She is a real lady!" Erik rebuked his child, indicating with a movement of his hand that Tony should stop or he would get slapped any moment now.

Tony went to the door, he would return to his room until lunch. But before he closed the door he called out: "What good is a singer who doesn't sing?" And quickly closed the door before his father could throw something at him. Erik went after his child to punish him but Meg held him back.

"Erik, don't! Please! Tony is just jealous!" she told him.

"Tony isn't jealous - you are!" Erik accused her, "Do not say one more word or you'll need time to cover your bruises with makeup before lunch!"

* * *

The automated restaurant was really fun. Erik had build miniature railways where tiny trains would deliver the meals. Every table had its own railway and the tracks were running high above the heads of the audience - even Giant Joe could stand there - and go down in a spiral in a metal cage on every table. The cage prevented any accidents should the tiny train be too fast. It would stop on the table on its own and the guests could take the plates from the tiny wagons. The waiter serving the drinks would take the small train with him back to the kitchen to be cleaned and used again for the next guest.

It was not open for guests now - the whole park wasn't - but it had guests: Some of the employees had been asked to have a free meal there so the kitchen an the waiters would learn how to operate the little serving trains correctly. It worked like a miniature roller coaster with one railway each table. Some minor problems had occured - most of them solved by now. Unfortunately they could not serve anything that contained something liquid for it would spill inevitably. And the hot meals would end on the table only lukewarm. So they had decided to have only sandwiches and cake - food that would be eaten cold.

There were two tables reserved for Erik's family and their guests. It were the tables at the window, they could see the preparations and tests for the new carousell with the figures that could go up and down if the rider would pull a lever. But it didn't work directly: They couldn't risk a child being struck three meters high. So there were employees watching figures. If the lever was pulled, the eyes of the figures - dragons, harpies and other creatures of legends, even one unicorn - would light up because they had lightbulbs. If the lights turned on, the employee would let the figure go up until the lever was released, then it would sink down on its own. If the time was up, all figures would have to go down, no matter what the riders would do. But of course it was announced as automated carroussel where the rider would control his or her figure.

The de Chagny children stood open-mouthed staring at the miniature roller coaster with the tiny trains delivering the food. There was a trapdoor in the ceiling, the kitchen was in the first floor, the whole mechanism worked only with gravity. A train emerged and rushed through a loop before entering the spiral down to a table where it stopped. At that table sat three people: A man who had no arms and took the plates with the sandwitches from the train and began eating with his feet, a man without hands and feet and a heavy build woman who helped the man without limbs.

"Staring is rude," the governess rebuked them, but couldn't help staring herself.

"These are the chief of design, Vincent, and the librettist Benny with his wife Suzie," Meg explained.

The governess began placing the children on the second table. Children never sat at the same table with adults - but of course Tony didn't know that. He was used sitting at the same table with his parents.

"Tony, don't you want to sit with the children?" Meg asked gently, encouraging him to behave properly.

"No," Tony replied, "I'll sit with Daddy." He missed completely that his mother was not asking him if he wanted but in truth meant it as a command.

Erik said nothing, just sat down and accepted that Tony took the place between him and Christine. Raoul politely waited until his wife sat before sitting down, Meg was angry that Erik had been the first to sit. If her husband showed casual disregard for her so openly, how could she expect her child to behave?

Now Gustave protested. If Tony, who was younger than him, was allowed to sit with the adults he didn't want to sit at the children's table. "Gustave, darling, don't you want to stay with your sisters?" Christine asked.

"Certainly not," Gustave retorted, encouraged to speak like he never dared to speak to his mother before by Tony's obvious disregard for rules. If the rules weren't as strict as in the hotel in Paris here in Coney Island, why shouldn't he test his limits for a change?

"Gustave, please," Christine was a bit helpless. She wasn't used to one of her children not following her orders. She couldn't yell at them and certainly not use physical punishment.

"Gustave!" The governess sharp tone did the trick and Gustave sat at the children's table, angrily glaring at Tony who sat beside Erik with a proud grin.

"I don't think it is good for children to sit with the adults," Raoul remarked, "It is boring for them and likely spoiling our conversation."

Erik smiled. "You'll find my son well educated. I'm absolutely sure there won't be any topic he doesn't have enough knowledge about to join the conversation in any language you might pick." He was more or less telling Raoul that he considered Tony much cleverer than him and it was not even veiled.

"Please, can't we just enjoy your meal?" Meg desperately begged. If Erik went on like this Raoul and he would either be in a duel in three minutes or maybe they would be fighting like some gutter snipes.

The waiter saved them from more trouble as he came to ask what they wanted and the mood changed immediately as the children watched excited as the little trains brought their sandwiches. Even Raoul and Christine were astonished at the automated restaurant. There were even some loops in the tiny railways. The quality of the food was secondary, the way how the tiny sandwiches were served was so fascinating that the children and adults - even Erik's employees who knew how this restaurant worked - ate and found these sandwiches so delicious they ordered more and more just to see the tiny trains deliver the next one.

Meg and Christine tried to make some conversation and ignore the challenging glares Raoul and Erik were exchanging. It was obvious that the two of them would love to fight then and there. Raoul thought that Erik's old age would now give him, the younger man, advantage while Erik was absolutely sure he would still best the spoiled aristocratic brat any time.

"Madame Christine," Tony asked politely, "May I ask one question?"

"Of course," Christine replied with a smile. Tony looked exactly like Meg had as a child and she liked him.

"Why do you have so much luggage and so many servants with you?" Tony asked.

"Because, Mr. Anthony Y, my children are educated by a governess and a home teacher. Just because we go on a trip we can't just interrupt their education."

"I see," Tony replied, "But why doesn't Monsieur Raoul teach them? My Daddy teaches me everything I need to know."

"Maybe because he doesn't know enough," Erik mumbled under his breath and Meg kicked his shin - only to let out a gasp of pain. Erik looked at her with fake innocence. "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked, pretending not to know that she had hurt her toes because he was wearing steel shin guard under his trousers. Meg rolled her eyes. Her always paranoid husband was wearing some sort of modern knight's armour of steel and leather under his elegant suit. She was sure he had at least five weapons hidden in his clothing - and surely Tony had three weapons with him too!

"Some men are too busy managing the property to have time to teach their children," Raoul replied snidely, "But some elder men are known to become a bit childish..."

It was Christine's time to give her husband a discreet wink that he should not speak like that. She didn't kick him, just a slight nudge with the tip of her shoe under the table.

Erik smiled and leaned back in his chair. "My young friend, let me give you a good advise: Don't think there is anything more important that your children."

"I never thought I would ever agree on anything with you. I just want the best for my children," Raoul replied. The underlying messages were clear - both men accused each other of being a bad father.

"So... what did you plan for the afternoon?" Christine asked Meg, trying to lighten the mood somehow.

"We could show you the park, if you are interested in that?" Meg suggested.

"O yes!" Gustave exclaimed and his sisters, who had carefully listened, supported him immediately so the governess had a hard time silencing them, reminding them that children did not speak at a table.

"Why shouldn't children speak at the table?" Tony asked, not addressing anyone in particular.

"Because they should not demand too much attention," Christine explained, "It disturbs the adults in their conversation." She didn't do it in any manner that would offend Tony. It was just the normal explanation she gaver her children too. "Unless you know the proper rules of conversation you might want to observe and learn before you engange in the conversation or you risk unintentionally committing a faux-pas."

"But I do not need to observe. I can read a book," Tony replied, "So I won't copy the mistakes of others."

He had a point, but Meg felt terribly ashamed that her child behaved absolutely not well as Tony began to dominate the conversation, explaining how the mini roller coaster worked and how many problems they had already solved. Christine smiled politely, listening to Tony's explanations, while Raoul grinned seeing his children behaving well - and Erik's son obviously being just another rude American kid. Erik on the other hand didn't even try to hide that he was proud of Tony knowing so much about engineering at his young age.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _The roller coaster restaurant exists. One is in the Prater in Vienna. h+t+t+p+:+/w+w+w+.+rollercoasterrestaurant+.+c+o+m/+en+/locations/index+.+p+hp?we_objectID=88 (delete the + and you have the link)._

 _Of course the one Erik has is 19th century style and not like the modern one._

 _Thank you for reading and please review!_


	77. Phantasma

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Phantasma**

Erik would have loved to show Christine the park, but he could not do this. This was supposed to be a family visit so they all had to go together. Christine and Meg stuck together and the rules of proper behavior demanded that he would stay with the Vicomte, nothing he liked but he was determined to give Tony a good example, put personal feelings aside and socialize. At least they were not mortal enemies now and he had to admit, as much as it pained him, that without the Vicomte's generous loan he would be in debtor's prison and Meg penniless alone with a child on Coney Island. He knew what that meant. Too many girls who worked in the brothel had come there because they were in precisely that predicament.

"Tony, please show the children around, will you?" Erik asked.

Tony gave a bow and replied with a smile: "It will be my pleasure." The way he looked at Raoul as he said that made perfectly clear that he liked it as much as Erik liked to be the gracious host to Raoul.

With a sigh Tony went to Gustave. "I guess I am your host now. Come on, let's dump the lasses in the Princess Hall and do something for men."

"Tony!" Erik called out, "That was terribly rude! Be polite to girls, treat women with respect!"

Tony saluted like a soldier. "Yes, sir!" he bellowed and signaled the children to follow him. Gustave grinned. He secretly admired this American kid for his disrespect for adults, but knew that he would never have that audacity.

"Aren't you scared they will punish you?" Gustave asked as Tony showed the way to the Princess Hall.

Tony shrugged. "Daddy's going to beat me," he replied, "But he already knows that he is only making me tougher."

"I don't think I could do that," Gustave admitted.

"It helps that I already won a horserace," Tony boasted, "When I was six."

"This can't be!" the governess, trying to keep the girls together, cut in, "A child can't win a horse race."

"I did," Tony replied, "And I have my own magic show in the park and am head of customer satisfaction evaluation." Tony was very proud of having his own department in Erik's team. Well, it wasn't entirely true, truth was that Erik kept paying Tony and his team just to make the child interacting with other children so he learned at least some social skills.

"Girls - Princess Hall. Have fun!" Tony commanded and grabbed Gustave's arm to draw him away. "Shark exhibition and then the tunnel of horrors?" he suggested.

"Tunnel of horrors? Isn't that forbidden for children?"

Tony winked at him. "I am Anthony Y. This park belongs to my father. Do you really think any of the employees would deny me if I want a ride? If you are my guest you can of course accompany me!"

Since Gustave showed no interest at all in the sharks - only the wooden model of the Megalodon impressed him because that shark was much larger than his father's boat - they didn't stay for long and headed straight to the tunnel of horrors.

The employees there - some were busy painting the wooden staircase that led up to the entrance on top of the building that looked likes some dark middle-age fortress - greeted Tony politely. Tony liked the way Gustave stared at the building in awe. "It is the world's largest and most frightening tunnel of horrors," Tony explained proudly, "Let's go!" As they climbed up the stairs he went on explaining: "You see that the cars are closed from the outside by an assistant. The guests have to be locked in so they are not able to stick out a finger for this tunnel of horrors is really dangerous. If you would stick out your hand you might lose it - and it would be deadly to leave the car." He really enjoyed boasting about this.

"This is just advertising," Gustave replied, trying not to show that he was impressed and even a little scared, "If it was really dangerous, it would be forbidden."

"Once a man said the same - no one ever saw him again," Tony replied cheerfully. It was a lie. No one had ever died in the tunnel of horrors, but it was true that Erik had planned this as a stronghold and there were lethal booby traps and some of the automatons were designed not only to scare but to kill. Only those who stayed in the cars were safe - and those who knew how to operate the traps, which were only Erik and his family and most trusted friends. So if something malfunctioned, they had to call Erik himself to repair it. It was unlikely that a car would get struck anywhere, but if it happened, the passengers would have to wait for Erik - which might add to their horror.

"Come in!" Tony demanded and took the second seat, leaving the better seat, the front seat, to Gustave. The cars were narrow, two people had to sit behind one another. An employee - a boy not much older than Gustave - closed the cage and secured it with a padlock. He politely wished them a scary ride and pushed the car to the point where gravity would do the rest to pull it down through the seemingly erratic course of the rails inside. The twists and turns, the ups and downs were planned to surprise the customers and scare them even more.

Inside it was completely dark, then the first turn, light flashed on, and the first scare - chopped off heads falling from above. They were attached to ropes and would automatically be pulled up again when the car passed the next button. Gustave yelped and flung up his hands. Tony laughed. He had helped creating many of the new horrors, he was not scared at all. The car touched the next switch and the light went off again.

The shark that attacked the car made Gustave scream in terror. "This one really works," Tony explained, "It is a mix of a guillotine and a battering ram. It is positioned so it stops before the car, but if you would hold out something it would chop it off. It is movable should it be needed elsewhere."

"Why is it dark here except when the automatons are on?" Gustave asked, trying to distract himself from the mummy that was trying to escape its coffin, another automaton of course.

"To heighten the effect," Tony explained and after another turn grunted in frustration: "O no, the Grim Reaper is malfunctioning again! We should have been attacked by a skeleton wielding a scythe now."

"O God!" Gustave yelped as another electric light went on, showing another automaton - it looked like a giant spider was attacking them - and Tony laughed again.

When they left the tunnel of horrors an employee opened the lock and helped Gustave out. The older boy was almost green in his face and shaking while Tony was rather happy having successfully scared the older boy.

"Put the Grim Reaper on the list," he ordered, "And the Bloating Corpse too - it opened but the guts thrown out didn't flow as far as they should." The corpse was not real, it was another automaton, and the guts that would be thrown out when the corpse's swollen abdomen would explode were just socks filled with old rags. But in the red light it spooked most people.

Gustave sat down at a bench. There were several benches at the exit of the tunnel of horrors so shaken customers could recover from the shock. There was a kiosk selling smelling salts, tiny bottles of brandy and drinking water. Tony got a glass of water for Gustave. Gustave was still shaking. "Don't worry," Tony told him cheerfully, "There are adults who can't take the tunnel of horrors."

* * *

Meg and Christine were walking at the promenade at the beach, Meg showing Christine the most beautiful place of Erik's park. Erik and Raoul trailed behind them, both watching each other mistrustful, not talking and keeping much distance. So Meg and Christine were walking in the middle of the promenade, Erik at one side and Raoul at the other. It didn't look as if the four of them were taking a walk together, but Raoul preferred a distance of at least four meters between him and the masked freak - and Erik would have preferred an even larger distance but that would have forced him to walk into the sea which wasn't a good idea at this time of the year.

"Why didn't you tell me who your husband was?" Christine asked, not accusingly, just curious.

Meg winced. "I couldn't. He is still a wanted man in France," she explained, "The risk would have been too high."

"And it has nothing to do with my one hundred thousand dollars?" Raoul cut in, glaring at Erik.

Erik snarled at him and the way he held his sword-cane made clear he was ready for a fight.

Christine and Meg decided not to speak about this right now, both scared their husbands might attack each other. They started talking about their children. Meg had to admit that she envied Christine who had many servants, nurses, a governess - Christine really had nothing else to do than being pretty and nice. She had so much time for herself, playing the piano and singing, reading, going to theaters and balls, enjoying herself. Meg told Christine that their life wasn't easy, told her of some of the hardships they had faced, including coldness, hunger and bitter poverty, being victim of a vicious crimelord.

"Some would call it poetic justice," Raoul mumbled.

"O Raoul, please, don't," Christine gently rebuked him, "No one deserves to be blackmailed and threatened."

"At least I was able to work with the authorities and bring the whole criminal gang behind bars," Erik retorted, not hiding his pride, "I outsmarted all of them."

Before Raoul could say something, Christine turned to Erik. "That is wonderful! I am so happy to find you well and sucessful!"

"With **my** money," Raoul reminded her, "Without it, he'd be nothing."

Before Erik could reply anything to that, they saw Tilly Three Legs running towards them. Christine and Raoul had a hard time not to stare with open mouths at the woman in the short dress running with three legs.

"Erik!" Tilly called out, "Please come! It is about Tony!"

"What did he do now?" Erik groaned.

"A fight... by the tunnel of horrors."

Erik didn't need to hear anything more. He sprinted towards the tunnel of horrors, Raoul following him, scared something might have happened to his children. Meg and Christine tried to follow, but with elegant shoes, long dresses and corsets running wasn't easy. Meg, trained dancer that she was, did much better than Christine who could only follow far behind.

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 _Since yesterday was a holiday I finished this earlier than expected. Have a nice weekend! Next chapter on Monday! Please leave a review._


	78. First Blood

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **First Blood**

Raoul would have reached the tunnel of horrors before Erik if he had known the way. He didn't, so he had no choice but following. Raoul didn't miss the fact that Erik ran with a slight limp as if his knee was giving him pain with each step.

When they came round the corner, they saw immediately what had happened: Gustave sat on a bench bent forward, his nose bleeding, the tall doctor beside him, soothing him. Tony was sitting on another bench, his face reddened, murderous fury in his eyes, Squelch sitting beside him, holding Tony's tiny arm in an iron grip that could restrain a bull so the child had no chance but to stay seated. It was obvious that the boys had fought. Two boy having a fight - nothing anyone would ever look twice on Coney Island, boys always had violent fights to establish the pecking order. If anyone noticed it was the mothers finding the clothing ripped - and the boys would receive a good trashing for damaging their clothing! Clothes were considered expensive in working class families.

But in this case it were no ordinary boys. It was Tony Y against Gustave de Chagny - Gustave was more than a year older, taller and much heavier than Tony who was rather small and slim for his age. But it was Gustave who was bleeding.

"Gustave! What happened?" Raoul asked shocked to see his son bleeding.

"He broke my nose!" Gustave complained crying.

"Stop crying and bear it like a man!" Tony yelled, "Crybaby!"

"Stop that!" Dr. Gängelmann called out, "Both of you! You will explain to your fathers what happened and let them measure out proper punishment."

"He hit me," Gustave complained again.

"He said I look like a girl," Tony replied, "This is an insult I couldn't take. I did everything right, Daddy, believe me: I challenged him to a duel and let him pick the weapons. Since that baby doesn't know how to use a rapier or a gun or a lasso I agreed to a fight with bare fists."

Erik didn't know if he should laugh at Tony's logic or scold him for the fighting or whatever else. "Tony, a duel can only be done in honorable way with weapons," he instructed, "You should have given him time to learn a weapon instead of using fists. Only the vulgar use fists."

Raoul didn't trust his ears. This man was really thinking a seven years old boy should fight with weapons. "You can't be serious," he gasped, "They are boys, they are far too young to train with weapons! And what kind of brute is your son to break my son's nose?"

"Brute? Look at them - your son is taller by a head and has almost double my son's weight. If your son can't defend himself against mine it is his own fault." Erik hissed.

"My son is too well educated to engage in fistfights!"

"But not educated enough to avoid carelessly insulting others. Your son called mine a girl and that is an insult to my son and to me. He has to apologize and you will punish him accordingly."

Raoul didn't even think of accepting an order. "I won't punish him and he won't apologize. I am not taking orders by an escaped criminal!"

"Then **I** demand satisfaction," Erik replied calmly, "You may choose the weapons."

That moment Meg arrived, just in time to hear the challenge. "Erik! What happened?" she asked out of breath, then glanced over to Gustave and Tony. It wasn't hard to understand that the boys had fought and now the fathers were doing more or less the same - only in a more cultivated and much more dangerous way. "You cannot challenge every boy's father to a duel! Erik, Tony is a child and children do fight sometimes!"

"Shut up, woman!" Erik snarled at her, "I'll deal with you later. Be thankful that I need you on stage in the opening!" Meg shuddered and shut up, knowing he would have hurt her if he wasn't afraid of losing the star of the opening show if she was injured or had bruises that showed - given the flimsy costumes she had to wear on stage there were not many spots on her body he could attack.

Now Christine arrived, completely out of breath and close to fainting. The tightly laced corset made it almost impossible for her to breathe. All she saw was her son bleeding. "O Gustave, my child!" she breathed, going to her knees before him, examining his face. The boy's nose bled, his upper lip and right eye were swelling.

"Not broken," the doctor informed her, "Just bruised. He will have bruises but they should be gone in one or two weeks."

"O my poor baby!"

Christine's motherly worries caused Tony to laugh out - Christine shuddered as she heard the mocking laughter of the Phantom that had haunted the opera so many years ago falling from a child's lips.

"Oooo that poor crybaby, did the bad boy hurt you? Now who is the girl here?" Tony mocked.

"Tony! Never mock anyone!" Meg rebuked her son who was still restrained by the Strongman.

"It is I who demand an apology," Raoul informed Erik coldly.

"What for? My son is telling the truth. It is not my fault that you spoil your son completely. But it seems that it takes a man to raise a boy."

"Seconds?" Raoul asked, proceeding with the formal challenge to the duel.

"Raoul no! You can't duel with him!" Christine gasped shocked, but her husband ignored her. The two men stood toe to toe and glared at each other, both uncomfortable with the closeness to each other but unwilling to show weakness and back away.

"Tony," Erik said and everyone's head snapped up to stare at him. "My second is Tony."

"No!" Meg ran to him and grabbed his arm, "You can't make Tony your second in a duel!"

"I can and I will. It will teach him a valuable lesson," Erik replied, "Tony! Come here!" Squelch released the boy and Tony went to his father, pale with fear. This was completely out of hand and too much for the child. "The seconds are to discuss the weapons and the time," Erik went on as if this was the most natural thing in the world, "Your second, Monsieur?" Tony stepped between his father and the Vicomte, Erik placed both hands on his son's shoulders.

"You can't be serious," Raoul gasped, "You cannot make your son your second! The boy is seven years old for God's sake!"

"Nearly eight," Tony protested, his thoughts racing to find the proper words now. As a second he should be discussing the choice of weapons with the other second - but there was none.

"Your second?" Erik asked again, his eyes narrowing.

Raoul was at a loss. He could not declare his boy his second - impossible! Gustave was too young! "I will be your second, if you need one," Dr. Gängelmann offered. Now that was not a good idea. The Vicomte knew that this man was obviously on the Phantom's - Mr. Erik Y's - payroll and had a rather high rank in his enterprise. The Vicomte would be very stupid to accept that man as a second.

"No thank you, sir," Raoul replied, "A second is to watch my back. You are... too close to Mr. Y for my taste. No offense!"

"None taken," Dr. Gängelmann replied, "I understand. We need to find someone who is not Mr. Y's friend. This won't take much time, I guess..."

"Johann! You are way out of line!" Erik growled and took a threatening step towards the tall doctor, releasing his son's shoulders.

"Maybe," the tall doctor replied, "A word with you in private, sir, if you please."

Erik snarled at him but gestured for him to follow. The two disappeared in one of the nearby cafes.

"Please do not fight him," Christine said, going to her husband, "Please. This is not worth your life. It was just a quarrel between boys. Gustave is not harmed, it is just bruises, please, don't risk your life for this."

"This is no longer a quarrel between boys that could be overlooked," Raoul replied seriously, "This is about my honor now." He looked at Tony. "I'm sorry, Anthony, but I think your father is mad to appoint you to be his second - no child your age should witness a duel."

"Do not worry about me, Monsieur le Vicomte," Tony's voice showed as much contempt as his father's when dealing with the Vicomte, "I know what I am doing. Since you do not have declared a second yet, may we discuss your choice of weapons?"

Raoul looked down at the scrawny boy with great sympathy. This boy was the monster's child and surely had suffered at his father's hands very much so his mind was already twisted at his young age. "Anthony, you are a child. I'm sorry, but... I cannot discuss this with you."

"Tony, the Vicomte is right," Meg agreed, "This is going to far - it has to stop."

"Mama, you don't understand that. You are only a woman," Tony made clear he already considered himself far above her, even if he loved her dearly, then turned back to the Vicomte, "I suggest a duel on pistols with rifled barrel. One shot at 50 meters. If both are still able to fight, you can proceed with the rapier, if necessary. Do you agree?"

The coolness the child showed silenced everyone. It was clear that Tony knew what he was talking about, maybe even knew about the weapons. "Tony! How do you know about duels?" Meg asked horrified.

Tony shrugged. "What my father taught me. Do not worry, Monsieur de Chagny, I know that a second has to stand in the place of the duellist should he fail to present himself properly at the appointed time. You will find me well prepared." His tone made the adults shudder, even his own mother. This clearly was his father's son and he knew how to keep that scary facade of cold indifference. Meg wondered if Tony knew what he was doing or if he was just playing a role Erik had taught him at some time.

That moment Erik and the tall doctor reappeared. They climbed down the staircase from the tunnel of horrors, their lips thin with anger, Erik's unmasked cheek reddened as if they had just had a heated argument, the doctor very pale.

"He didn't agree to the terms yet," Tony reported, now much more childlike than a moment before.

Erik nodded. "It seems we have to discuss the terms ourselves," Erik addressed the Vicomte, "Did my son already state them?"

The Vicomte informed him in short words about the terms Tony had named. Erik nodded. "That is fine with me. Tomorrow before dawn?"

"Fine. But I still do not have a second and we do not have a officiant."

"I could do that, sir," Squelch suggested, "If I can stop two longhorn bulls fighting, I think I can risk that."

"Would you even decide against your boss?" Raoul asked suspicious.

The strongman looked at Erik with a smile. "Already did and survived to tell the tale."

"Perfect," Erik sighed, "The doctor to help the injured one. My second stands - why do you hesitate to name your son? Don't you trust him?"

"I trust him," Raoul replied steadily, "I do not trust you."

"Do not worry, I guarantee that your widow and orphans will return to France safely," Erik's reply was icy, "And I trust you to leave mine in peace should you win. Tony - we talked about you being my successor. This might happen sooner than anticipated." Tony swallowed and nodded, for the first time realizing that this was serious. The boy grew pale and trembled slightly, but as his father put a hand on his shoulder calmed down again.

"You cannot do this!" Meg berated Erik.

"I agree with Meg," Christine cut in finally, "This is too dangerous and it is illegal. You cannot do this! Raoul, listen to reason! Call this off!"

"If he apologizes..." Raoul was ready to let go of this.

"Certainly not! It is you who has to apologize!" Erik was not ready to bow to the Vicomte, never.

"I won't," the Vicomte wouldn't either.

When the de Chagny family returned to their hotel rooms Christine told Raoul exactly what she was thinking of this duel. To her they were behaving like small boys only that they would be using weapons that might result in severe injuries or even death, but in Raoul's eyes it was far too late to call the duel off. This was a matter of his honor now and he would certainly not act like a coward.

Meg gave Erik pretty much the same lecture - but she used some rather un-ladylike language and even turned to her mother for help who was ready to kill Erik herself for the mere idea to make Tony watch a duel. They only succeeded in Erik and Tony leaving the flat to spend the night in the hotel because they were tired of nagging females who had no idea what being a man meant.

Meg was crying as she told her mother of the reason for the duel. "Now he's going to kill Raoul because Gustave said that Tony looked like a girl!" she sobbed, "This is such a terrible mess!"

"I should have let the bastard rot in the sewers, or better, betrayed him to the police in Paris!" Antoinette Giry exclaimed, "He'd better die in the duel or I'll make him wish he had!" And she meant every single word of what she was saying.

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 _Thank you for reading. Please review._

 _Next chapter will be up next week._


	79. At the Crack of Dawn

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **At the Crack of Dawn**

Tony begged Erik to call the duel off but Erik informed him it was too late for that. He had to go through with it now, but of course he would take precautions to minimize the risk for himself. The most important precaution was to go to the costume department with the He-She. In the second variety they sometimes needed corsets for male performers. There were male performers who would - like their female colleagues - often share a hotel room with customers. This was highly illegal and they could end up in prison for twenty years or longer, but that didn't stop them.

Erik knew no morality in that, as long as he could pretend not to know that some of his male dancers had a side-income he wouldn't stop them, especially because they brought in guests willing to pay much for a hotel room - and even more for discretion.

"Do you really intend to wear one of these?" the He-She asked, wondering why Erik would want that.

Erik nodded. "Don't lace me up too tightly. I need to be able to fight a duel with this."

"The Frenchman?" The He-She already knew. Well, who of Erik's friends didn't? The challenge had been spoken in the afternoon before Dr. Gangle and Squelch, so of course now, late at night, everyone knew.

Erik nodded and picked a men's laced corset that looked like it was just a normal vest. The laces were on the back so he should not take off the jacket, but given the coldness of the night, it was highly unlikely that this would be expected. This type of corset was filled with steel springs and to make it even more protecting Erik decided to wear another piece from the costume beneath it: a vest with coins attached to it like the scales of a fish. It was uncomfortable, even as the He-She laced him up rather loosely, but Erik was quite sure that no pistol bullet would penetrate it at a distance of 50 meters. And it would protect him from injuries from Raoul's blade as well, should they have to continue with the rapiers. "Should work, if he aims for the torso like most people do," Erik told the He-She. He didn't know why but in a duel most men aimed for the other one's torso - Erik seldom did, knowing the face and especially the eyes being much more vulnerable.

He did not get much sleep that night as he had brought Tony with him to the hotel room they spend the night after more or less running from the penthouse because his child was sick. So Erik was forced to sit at his son's bed for hours, holding a small bucket for him, alternately cleaning the bucket or trying to calm his child, telling him that he should trust him, the great magician, to survive this. When Tony finally fell asleep, Erik could only collapse at his bed, exhausted, but well aware that he had to present himself at the chosen site of the duel - the beach by the pier. He needed some hours sleep.

* * *

At the appointed time a crowd gathered at the beach by the pier. Of course Erik's trusted friends, the freaks and the musicians were there and many other of his employees. They just wanted to see the spectacle - they hadn't seen any duel before. Erik didn't have any reputation for being good in duels and as far as they knew he was no fighter, he was a magician who would cheat in every possible way and no one would ever find out how he did it. So no one wanted to make a bet, they all knew Erik would survive.

Raoul had appointed the home teacher as his second for lack of any other man available. It was somewhat logical - if the other second was a child, why shouldn't he choose a teacher? The Vicomte didn't like the crowd which had gathered there - simple working class men and women and oddities. Just what he had expected in a fairground. He felt he was far above them, too far to duel with the masked freak - but if he refused now he would be disgraced.

Tony looked pale and shaken, but put on a brave face. Erik had the pistols with him as well as two identical rapiers. He allowed both Raoul and his second to test them and then left it to Raoul to choose the pistol and the rapier he wanted to use, the duellists loeaded their pistols themselves. "Remember, these are very precise because of the rifled barrel. Do you need more than 50 meters distance?" Erik asked, trying to make the Vicomte nervous.

"Why should I?" Raoul asked, knowing that this was dangerous but his chance to kill the monster who still haunted him and his wife in their nightmares was as high as his risk.

Squelch had measured out the 50 meters and marked the places for the duelists putting sticks in the ground. But now he had a hard time shooing away the nosy crowd so they wouldn't accidentally get in the way or - just how stupid were they? - stand behind one or the other duelist. He had put up torches to make sure everyone had enough light.

Erik and Raoul went to their marks, facing each other. To Erik's left and Raoul's right side was the sea, to the other Squelch, Dr. Gängelmann, Tony and the home teacher who wasn't sure why he was there - to act as a real second or to comfort the poor child who was forced to witness this gruesome spectacle?

"Gentlemen, are you ready?" Squelch asked, obviously the doctor had given him a crash course in proper behavior at a duel - or else he would have expected them to do it rather like they did in Wild West novels.

Both nodded, holding their pistols at the level of their eyes, neither one looking away from the opponent. Erik faced Raoul, he had his pistol in his left hand and presented Raoul the full breadth of his torso, giving him a good target. Raoul stood side-on, the pistol in his right hand. The side-on stand gave Erik a smaller target. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, had there not been the gentle rush of the ocean.

"I count to three, then you may fire," Squelch reminded them, "And I'll have your guts for garters should you fire too soon!" Well, maybe the doctor's lecture in proper behavior at a duel might be lacking in language.

"One" Both duelists took a breath.

"Two" Both lowered their weapons to take aim.

"Three" The Vicomte fired. He saw Erik flinch and take a step back, but Erik didn't fall.

"Sir?" Squelch asked, "Is your pistol malfunctioning?"

Erik took aim again, watching for the Vicomte to show fear. All he saw was the Vicome going pale, but he didn't show fear. He stood calm and composed, waiting for the shot that might kill him in a posture worth admiring.

Erik slowly, deliberately moved his left arm to point at Raoul first, then swiftly moved his arm to aim the pistol at the sea. The shot rang out and the bullet was fired fo fall into the water somewhere without Erik taking his eyes off the Vicomte.

A roar arouse from the crowd, they were clearly cheering for Erik's generous gesture. Especially "Uncle Shark" - as Tony called the old man now - saw this again as evidence that Erik Y was a good man at heart despite his attempt to present himself as dangerous, which he considered to be only advertising to draw in customers.

Erik put the pistol down and pointed to the rapiers. "I do not wish to proceed, do you?"

Raoul couldn't show less nobility than Erik now, especially because he knew that the other man had just spared him. "No need. I am satisfied."

The roar from the crowd was deafening as some rushed to Erik, some even crying. It took a while before Erik managed to make them shut up and listen to him. He just ordered them to leave him alone - they had jobs to do and the opening would be in less than 48 hours. Everything had to be perfect or he would have their heads for it.

Erik, Tony, Raoul, the doctor, Meg and Christine - both women had been there to see the duel, but they had been far away, neither one wanting to see her husband die or kill - were left alone.

Christine rushed to Raoul, crying. "Thank God, you are alive!" she cried out and embraced him.

Meg wasn't so affectionate. The first thing she did was slap Erik in the face on the unmasked cheek and yelled at him: "You stupid, ignorant bastard! What the hell did you think, subjecting your child to this duel? You could have died, for God's sake! Would you want Tony to see you die in the dust? Would you want him to see another boy's father die? You are the worst..."

"You have a fine way telling me that you love me," Erik snidely remarked, "But I guess I get the message."

A slow clapping startled them and they turned around to see who was there. "De Mer!" Erik exclaimed, "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"Witnessing a crime," the head of prosecution dryly replied, "Duels are strictly forbidden."

"How did you come to know of this?" Erik asked furious. He had been sure the prosecutor did not have any spy in Coney Island, given the fact that no one on Coney Island liked the lawmen.

"That was me," Antoinette Giry informed him, "This time you've gone too far."

"You backbiting snake!" Erik backhanded her so hard, she fell to the ground unconscious. The doctor knelt to tend to her.

"I do not want to interfere in private affairs, but... gentlemen, come with me. You are both under arrest," Jonathan de Mer declared.

Raoul didn't know what to do. The shame of being arrested was terrible - but resisting arrest would be even worse. As a man of honor he had to comply and hope for a generous judge with much understanding for the need to defend one's honor.

"But why?" Erik asked, spreading his hands, "No one was injured. Nothing happened."

"That's not what I saw. I saw an illegal pistol duel."

Erik chuckled. "O please, Mr. de Mer, surely you know me better than that! I am a magician. This was just a trick, I swear it upon my honor."

De Mer raised an eyebrow. On Mr. Y's honor? That couldn't mean much. "Very funny," he hissed, "How about you miss your opening party because you and your friend have much time to argue your animosity out in a holding cell?"

The thought of spending days together in a holding cell was scary for both men. "Isn't there another way?" the Vicomte asked, "I give you my word I won't try to escape."

"There was no duel, I assure you!" Erik insisted.

"I only saw a magic trick," Tony assisted him.

"It was just a staged show," the doctor confirmed.

De Mer looked at the Vicomte who kept silent, neither wanting to lie nor to incriminate himself. The prosecutor nodded, instinctively trusting the Frenchman whom he saw for the first time more than Erik whom he knew - because he knew him. "After the opening party I want to see both of you in my office giving your testimonials. And Mr. Y, I expect you to confess to the duel or I might have a closer look at some part of your park you better not present to me."

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 _Thank you for your patience! Next chapter next week (hopefully). I am very busy right now, so there might be a delay._


	80. Season Opening

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Season Opening**

Erik returned home with his wife and his child, his mother in law was too shaken from receiving such a blow. She was furious and threatened to move out, an offer Erik gladly accepted and ordered Dr. Gängelmann to arrange that Antoinette Giry would immediately move to one of the flats in the new buildings.

In this, Erik had kept his word: his musicians and the freaks plus some other trusted staff-members - especially the secretary he now employed and the bookkeeper - got flats there. The flats were luxurious for Coney Island: electric light in every flat - which caused Vincent to dance around in his happiness that he would finally have proper light to draw whenever he wanted - a kitchen, running water, indoor plumbing, gas-stoves for heating. The space was limited so the indoor-toilet was just in the bathroom and the kitchen was really small since the room usually reserved for the kitchen was now kitchen, bathroom and indoor-toilet. One livingroom and two bedrooms each flat.

Squelch was ordered to help Antoinette Giry pack and move her personal belongings to her new flat. Not all flats were already occupied since some preferred to share a flat even if they didn't have to, like Squelch and Fleck, Attamamma and Vincent. Madame Giry found herself quite alone - no one wanted to share a flat with her and she suddenly realized that her stern and aloof behavior, her constant critique, had left her quite alone. Except Meg, Erik and Tony she had no one who loved - or even liked - her privately, even if they appreciated and respected her skill as ballet mistress.

"Do you really insist on my mother moving out?" Meg asked, as they were alone in Erik's room in the penthouse.

"It was her idea, I just accepted it. I'm sure you understand that no one who ever betrayed me can live under the same roof with me again. She's lucky I didn't kill her, but I guess I would have a hard time explaining to Tony why I killed his Granny before his eyes - despite everything Tony loves her." He removed his jacket and tried to unlace the men's corset he wore, which was impossible: the laces were on the back. "Would you... help me?" he asked.

Meg's eyes grew wide. "You... since when do you wear such thing?" Of course she knew about the shows in the second variety, about the men dressed like they were women and even the illegal things discreetly hidden in hotel rooms.

"Don't ask, just do it!"

Meg untied him, noticing that the corset was tied quite loosely, but it was tight enough for him to be uncomfortable. Like every other man he was used to breath freely and move his torso like he wanted to. He gave a sigh of relief when he was finally rid of the corset. Only then did Meg notice the vest he wore under the corset. She didn't dare asking as he removed it, but as he removed his shirt as well she gasped in shock: the ribs on his left side were badly bruised, it was a fresh bruise and it was still swelling.

"That miserable glamour boy nearly killed me," Erik groaned as he saw the damage for the first time. Raoul had not missed him, he had hit perfectly, if Erik hadn't worn the vest with the coin-applications and the corset with the steel springs the bullet would not only have penetrated the jacket and bruised his ribs, it would have hit the left lung, which would most likely kill Erik or - in the best case - left him crippled for the rest of his life.

"You were cheating," Meg exclaimed not angrily, rather amused, "You miserable scoundrel! I was so scared I might lose you, and you were - cheating."

"What did you expect?" he shrugged, "I never accepted any rules, why would I accept a code of honor I didn't create myself? I just wanted to put that glamour boy back in place - but it seems I underestimated him. He is... well, let's say the whelp grew up to become a grown lapdog. But even a lapdog can bite."

"You were childish like Tony and Gustave!"

"Don't start this again, or you can move to your mother!"

Meg fell silent. She knew Erik could easily throw her out of the house and she would have to be grateful if he didn't cast her out in the streets but gave her another flat to live in. "I was really worried about you," she told him, "And then I admired your gesture as you spared him..."

Erik grinned sheepishly: "I didn't want to kill him before Tony. Not that Tony hadn't seen corpses before, but he never saw the actual kill."

"Tony... saw **what**?"

"Corpses. You know, people who died in an accident or were killed or beggars who just died in the streets for some unknown reason. He knows what they look like, but I didn't want him to see me kill. I wanted to give him a lecture about being a good man. And a good man spares his enemies life, if he can afford that without negative consequences for himself." Meg didn't point out to him how twisted his definition of a good man was, right now she didn't care much. They were all alive and more or less unharmed, that was all that mattered to her now.

"We can't discuss this now, Meg. You have to go to the rehearsal and I have to do the last repairs and improvements in the Hall of Wonders, the pleasure cruise ship and the tunnel of horrors. We have only two days before the season opening, our private problems have to wait until the opening party is over."

"And... Christine?"

"Give her free tickets for everything, we do not have time for them now."

Maybe that was for the best, Meg decided, no more fights between Tony and Gustave, Erik and Raoul.

* * *

The last two days before the season opening where chaotic to say the least. Of course they were well prepared and everything had been checked and double checked and rehearsed but this did not mean Madame Giry would not panic and order extra-rehearsals for the shows. She and her daughter had a heated quarrel for Meg was on Erik's side and refused to even listen to her mother, she even threatened to ask her husband to throw her out.

"There is no other choreographer!" Antoinette Giry exclaimed.

"There is, mother, I am a ballerina like you, you taught me everything you know - and I am not growing younger. Like it or not, but I will replace you. Now - either we do this like professionals or out you go!"

It was a milestone in the relationship between Meg and her mother for Antoinette Giry. The mother realized that her daughter was a grown up woman now and in a much more powerful position than she was. Meg was Erik's wife and mother of his child and Erik had the park under his control. So either she accepted her role as the grandmother and soon-to-retire ballet mistress or she might be alone, completely alone, in her old age.

Erik was busy repairing the last problems in the tunnel of horrors, the Hall of Wonders and the pleasure cruise ship. This meant he was the first one to get up in the morning and the last one to go to bed in the night. The doctor kept a close eye on him to make sure he would not succumb to the temptation to take some drugs to enhance his ability to work. They even had a lengthy discussion about Erik drinking very strong black coffee with lots of sugar, close to two litres per day! While the doctor was sure this could not be healthy, Erik argued it was at least not addictive and he would not drink it once the season opening was over.

Even Tony was very busy, he was to have his own magic show, no longer being his father's assistant but being the magician himself. His stage name would be 'Master Anthony' - for lack of a better idea - and he was sure he could change that the moment he had a better idea. So he practiced his tricks with the maid as his audience, everyone else was too busy to be audience for him.

The de Chagny family was more or less left to explore the park on their own, which was great fun since they were the only customers and got exclusive insight to every attraction before it was open for business. While the girls loved the Princess Hall - and the new governesses there got girls to practice how to behave under the critical surveillance of the experienced governesses - while Gustave preferred the Hall of Wonders and especially all the automatons he could try. He and his father played for hours with the mechanic horse race, trying to guess which horse would win - and because the hidden worker in the automaton liked Gustave, the child always won and Raoul always lost, wondering why. They could not know that a human was operating the horse race, voluntarily choosing which metal horse would win the race.

When the maid served dinner in the penhouse, she found the family asleep. Meg was in her chair, she had taken off her shoes and her feet were unladylike on the table. Erik was on the couch, snoring, and Tony curled up like a dog under the table. The maid's laugh woke them, but eating dinner without falling from the chair proved to be a trial as they could barely keep their eyes open.

* * *

The great opening party came. Erik was nervous, he always was when facing large crowds - and this crowd was the largest he had ever seen in one place, and they all came to see him, his park and his show. He was his own best publicity stunt - Mr. Y, the Mysterious Masked Magician. They wanted to see him, he had to welcome them - and he had his son and his wife at his side. Of course he would only show himself briefly to the masses, but he had to shake hands with politicians, officials and the rich and mighty men who wanted to impress their families with a personal meeting with Mr. Y. Especially children adored the magician - a very one-sided love, Erik didn't like children, he found them and their noise and constant prattling extremely annoying.

It was a relief when he had to leave the main entrance door to change for his magic shows. He had seven that evening, Tony had two magic shows, Meg six music-and-dance shows. Every show would be only fifteen minutes, then fifteen minutes break so the next ticket holders could come in. He wondered why people paid exorbitant prices for a fifteen minute show just because it was opening party when they could have three half-hour-shows for a cheaper price at any other day of the season.

Raoul and Christine decided to see some of the shows but when they saw just how many people were in the park and how long they had to wait before they could use one of the attractions, they decided they and their children would spend most of the time in the hotel - they were afraid of losing one of their children in the chaos. So the children got to stay and learn, while Raoul and Christine went to see at least some shows. Raoul had not wanted to, but Christine insisted that they would see at least one of Erik's shows and she wanted to see Meg and Tony. Raoul went with her because he did not trust Erik not to try something odd if he encountered Christine alone. Erik already had kidnapped her from the stage in front of the police - now, in this park he himself build, without anyone suspecting him, it would be even more easy to kidnap her. Raoul suspected Erik to use the ship to take her away.

Truth was, Erik was by far too busy to even think of Christine. He had to do his shows and socialize with important men and had to do last minute repairs if something went wrong. And there were so many things that did go wrong. One of the carousel figures got struck and even one car in the tunnel of horrors. As unlikely as it was - this one broke a wheel and got struck, was rammed by the two following cars before the employee at the exit noticed the problem and signaled his colleague at the entrance to stop the cars, much to the customers who were waiting to be granted entrance dismay - they had already waited in line for an hour and now had to wait even longer. And when Erik came to help the men who were helplessly struck in utter darkness and already panicked, the shock was even worse - Erik was still in his stage costume for he came directly from his show. He wore a black cape and a silver mask and appeared seemingly out of nowhere before them, switching on an electric spotlight so he could see where the problem was.

"Broken wheel," he mused, then freed the men from the car. He asked them to help him lift the broken car and put it aside before the three of them pushed the two other cars to set them in motion again. "Take my hands and do not let go!" Erik told them before he led them through the dark tunnel of horrors before leaving the two shaken men at the exit door and rushed to solve another problem - this time with the show in the second variety. One of the snakes the snake girl used to dance with had escaped. Fortunately the snakes were not poisonous for they didn't find it and decided to do the show with two instead of three snakes.

* * *

Christine was impressed by the shows. The music was different from opera music, but it came close, as close as it could considering the taste of the audience. No one came to Coney Island for Operas and Concerts. But the shows included at least some minutes of classical music at its best. She got the impression Erik was trying to accustom his audience to better music - and they did appreciate it. They liked it. Meg's dancing was classical, even if the other dancers were far beneath her skill, but that was to be expected. To Christine's great surprise Meg even had some lines to sing and she had a nice voice. Not that she could be a singer in an Opera, but her voice was lovely.

She was more than impressed by Tony's show. "Unbelievable. The boy is younger than Gustave - and he stands on this stage and presents his magic tricks like a seasoned magician!" she whispered to her husband.

Raoul did not object, he had to admit that the boy impressed him with his performance. Erik's show was the very best he had ever seen - he had to admit that Erik was a great magician on stage, but he still disliked that man. Only that Erik had spared him in the duel made him think if the monster could have changed and found a way to overcome his criminal instincts. Was it possible that the monster had changed? Being a father himself he knew how caring for a child changed a man. How priorities changed, how important it was suddenly to make sure that little human being would one day be proud to call him his or her father. Raoul himself had given up his career as naval officer because the expeditions he was trained for were too dangerous. He could not bear the thought that his son would grow up without him, that he might have children without ever knowing they existed because he would be gone for years. It was a tough decision but he had given everything up to go back to manage the family property. A much less exciting job, but it involved much less risk - and he was at home almost every evening to say good night to his wife and children. Was it possible that the masked freak had the same feelings? Could a monster like him be... just another father?

* * *

Raoul and Christine had much to talk about as they were on the balcony of their suite in the hotel overlooking the sea where the ocean steamer was clearly visible because of the lights against the dark ocean and the starless sky. Beneath them the park was buzzing with activity, the streets lightened by modern electric light, music coming from various places and the constant noise of people laughing and chatting drifted to them. Both of them wondered if the Phantom was still there or if the Phantom had died and left behind only the man Erik who was, despite all his uncanny facade, was just another human being like themselves. Christine had always known that he was just a man, but Raoul had only seen the monster. Now, for the first time, he too saw just another man.

* * *

Erik and Meg didn't have the luxury of long talks in the evening. They had to attend to several parties in different restaurants and hotels until very late in the night. When they finally had a chance to leave it was close to dawn. Meg's feet were bleeding and she took off her shoes before they would climb up the stairs to the penthouse. Meg left bloody footprints because her stockings were soaked. Neither one knew how they managed to climb the stairs or if they were crawling on hands and knees eventually. They collapsed onto Erik's bed fully dressed, falling asleep immediately.

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 _A party isn't much fun for the host - it is hard work._

 _Hope you liked the chapter. Next one next week, I suppose._


	81. to Bury the Hatchet

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **to Bury the Hatchet**

The day after the season opening Christine was up early in the morning and decided to go for a walk at the beach. She was alone, the whole park seemed to be sleeping, only some workers were busy collecting trash people had left and cleaning up. Except the cleaning team the only one awake at this early hour - it wasn't early, it was 9 a.m. but the party had just ended three hours ago, so everyone else was in bed now - was the yawning barman in the 24-hours-bar. He was alone, but the bar had to be open, so he had brought a book and was reading until customers would come.

She was walking at the beach, watching the sea. It was by far too cold to go swimming, but in summer it would be lovely. She marveled at the large building she found, it had a metal plate that told the visitor it was a generator that used the change of tides to produce electricity. And it told the names of the men who had died there. Christine wondered why Erik, whom she knew as merciless killer, would show so much respect to the victims of a mere accident - an accident that was likely to happen at a building site like this. If he did, he must have changed much more than she had ever thought he could.

From this building she could not go further because there was a wooden fence and a sign that women and children were not allowed in the other area. Christine obeyed this sign, she had long ago accepted that women better not came close to certain buildings if they valued their reputation. But why would Erik add such an area to his park? It was clearly part of his park, as was the tunnel of horrors that loomed over the dark area like a middle-age-fortress.

A tunnel of horrors. How fitting. She had absolutely no desire to see it, not because it was not open for women and children, but because she had experienced real horrors at Erik's hands and had absolutely no wish to see what his sick fantasy created to scare people. She did not want to know.

She decided to go to the bar to buy a cup of coffee. The name "bar" troubled her. A lady alone in a bar? She would have preferred one of the cafe's or restaurants, but they were all closed. Right now she wished Raoul was with her, but she had decided against waking him.

Before she reached the bar she saw Meg in a plain comfortable dress walking over the beach barefooted, enjoying the soft cool sand under her feet.

"Good morning," Christine greeted her cheerfully.

Meg looked pale and had dark circles under her eyes. "Morning," she mumbled, "What are you doing here so early?"

"Early? At this time we are usually attending morning mass in Paris," Christine replied, "So I do not think it is so very early. My children are already learning. Only Raoul is still asleep - he is somewhat exhausted after the last days."

"Erik won't be around before 3 p.m.," Meg gave a rough estimation, "And he is snoring."

Christine couldn't help giggling. She had never imagined the Phantom snoring - but it made sense. He had to sleep like any other man. Meg pulled up her skirt a bit and walked into the water, allowing the cool sea-water to caress her toes. "Meg, you are showing your ankles!"

"Christine, get off from your high horse!" the blonde dancer grumbled, "This is Coney Island! People show much more here! It is a bathing beach - and yes, women do swim. I like swimming, but not now, it is too cold..."

Christine looked around. "And no one is seeing us?"

"Except the cleaning team? No. Maybe the barman, but he's reading his book, so he won't look. Besides... he won't look at any women..." There were certain rumors about the barman who did the early morning shift, but of course no one knew anything for sure.

Christine took off her shoes and stockings, blushing with shame and excitement as she dared to scandalously walk on the soft sand barefooted, even lifting her skirt a bit so it wouldn't get wet. When the wave touched her toes she let out a delighted squeak.

"Why do men always want to fight the ocean?" Meg asked happily, "We are just standing here and the ocean is kissing our feet."

Christine laughed. "I've never seen it like this. But yes... you are right!"

* * *

Meg was wrong about the time Erik would get up - she hadn't counted on Tony waking his father.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Tony exclaimed, shaking his father's shoulders, "Get up up up! It is learning day!" Tony was excited.

Erik yawned. "Wake me when coffee is ready!" Erik groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. He had hoped to stay this day in bed and in the chaos of season opening completely forgotten about 'learning day' with Tony.

"Already done!" Tony beamed, "The maid made half a litre coffee - get up or it will be cold before you are dressed!"

"Hrpmf!"

The child knew that it was difficult to get his father out of the bed. He didn't know why his father always wanted to stay in bed as long as possible - there was so much to do each day, so much to learn, how could anyone prefer to stay in bed and do nothing? Tony grabbed the blanket and snatched it away, then he opened the window, knowing the cold air would help his father wake up.

"Tony!" Erik barked angrily, "I want to sleep!"

"Learning day, Daddy, you promised! We keep promises to family and friends, right?"

Erik sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes. "The de Chagny's have a home teacher with them. Can't you bother him?"

"Why would I? He's their teacher. Do you really think he knows anything you don't?" The idea that someone would know anything his father didn't had not occured to Tony.

"Maybe," Erik yawned, "At least he has studied being a teacher while I am just a natural..." Modesty was not his strong side, but right now he just wanted to have some more time to rest. Having to deal with his over-excited son before he had his morning coffee was too much right now.

Tony gave it a thought. "If you think so..." he asked skeptical, "I will ask him if he can teach me something. But you come with me!"

"Why? I don't need a teacher!"

"Or you teach me! You promised, Daddy, you promised!"

"Out of the room so I can get dressed!" Erik decided to do as his child demanded - at least he would be able to sit down and close his eyes a bit when Tony would bother the teacher with his endless questions.

* * *

The Vicomte was surprised when Erik knocked at his door and asked if Tony would be allowed to attend to the lessons Gustave was having, but he agreed, wondering why Erik would suddenly want his child to get good education when he clearly hadn't bothered in the last years.

Gustave held out his hand to Tony. "I'm sorry I called you a girl," he said.

"I'm sorry I behaved like a rogue," Tony replied. They shook hands and took their places at the table in the living room of the suite that had been turned into the school for a few hours. The girls and the governess were already away to the Princess Hall - the girls wanted to pet the ponies again.

The teacher handed Tony paper and a pencil as he did Gustave.

"What do we learn today?" Tony asked.

"Maths," Gustave was not very happy about that.

"O good!" Tony was happy, "Commercial bookkeeping? Or can you teach me how to calculate the efficency of a generator?"

The teacher stared at Tony. "Master Anthony, you are only seven years old... are you sure that is what you want to learn today?"

"Of course. Or we could do trigonometry. I love trigonometry."

"I haven't started with trigonometry yet," Gustave confessed, not even knowing what that would be, but not wanting to give away his ignorance.

The teacher asked Tony to demonstrate some trigonometry and Tony began sketching the tunnel of horrors, explaining how he had helped his father to improve it, how they had calculated how high they would have to build it, how they calculated each room. The teacher had to admit that Tony was far above any other child that age and Erik - who was sitting at the couch observing the lesson grinned proudly. Raoul, who sat on the other edge of the couch, shifted uncomfortably. Seeing his son who was clever but normally developed for his age compared to this child progeny was not easy, but he kept silent.

"Sir, maybe... Master Anthony needs another teacher. He is... at the level of a child ten years older than he is..." the teacher admitted.

Tony beamed with pride and Erik grinned even more - he loved to hear that his child was too clever for a child his age. It just confirmed what he knew all along: his son was a genius. Raoul bit his lip.

"Do you want to play four-handed?" Gustave asked, pointing to the upright piano in the corner.

Tony frowned. "No. I do not play."

Erik wished the ground would open up and swallow him. His son did not play any instrument! This was a severe disgrace in his eyes, especially when he saw how the Vicomte raised his eyebrow in wonder.

"I do not like anything I have to practice," Tony explained, "Either I can do it immediately or I don't do it at all. So no, I do not play. You see, if I can't do it immediately after something was explained to me, I do not have a talent for it. I have so many talents, why would I waste my time doing something I have no talent for?"

"Sounds logical," Gustave agreed, "I have absolutely no talents for maths and calligraphy. Why should I learn it?"

"I should forbid Gustave to play with your son, he's no decent company," Raoul hissed and Erik winced, he could not really reply anything intelligent. Tony's refusal to learn any instrument pained him very much.

"Maths is very important," Tony disagreed with Gustave, "How else would you know if your employees are cheating on you and stealing from the bank accounts? You have to be able to control their numbers!"

"Well... maths has a reason... unless you have someone you can trust!" Gustave disagreed.

Their fathers both listened to their arguement, Raoul even signaled the teacher not to interfere, he wanted to know how the boys would solve their problem.

"My father says you can trust absolutely no one because even your most trusted ally could turn against you," Tony replied, shrugging, "And maths is fun. Did you ever build a windmill?"

"Yes," Gustave replied, "It was made of paper." He thought of a small toy he had learned how to make.

"Do you want to make a larger one? One with a generator?" Tony asked.

Gustave's eyes danced in excitement. "O yes!"

"A generator?" Raoul did not trust his ears.

"A model of one," Erik explained, "Just a horseshoe magnet with copper wire. It is just enough to make a small lightbulb glow, not even burn, but it is a good method to teach the basics about electricity." He pushed himself to his feet and added as afterthought: "And maths. Maths is only boring if you do not know what you can use it for. As soon as you do - and be it to impress someone with your knowledge - you love it."

"I'd appreciate if your son could teach mine to like maths."

The two boys hurried off.

"I only hope this is not the American style of teaching children!" the teacher complained, "How can any child grow up to a valuable member of society if he never learns any discipline?"

"Don't you dare question my son's self-discipline! He won a horse-race when he was six. He has his own magic show since he was three. The children you educate - how much do they earn each day, hmmm? My son could take over managing the park any day now!" Erik almost yelled at the teacher.

Raoul wondered how much of Erik's boasting was true. Well, he had seen the boy's magic show and knew the child already was a good magician but he highly doubted the boy could invent new tricks, he suspected Erik to be the mastermind behind the show and the one who designed everything - Tony just knew how to use the props and, Raoul had to admit that, was a good actor playing the magician. "Do they really build a windmill with some kind of generator?" he asked.

"Certainly. I'm working on a 'Science Lab' for children - it will not be finished before next season. I want children to be able to experiement with electricity, chemicals and whatever. I think they will love it. Tony is... testing the various sets for me. If he can manage to put them together correctly I'm sure most fathers will manage."

"Sounds more like school that an attraction in an amusement park if you want to teach physics and chemics," the teacher said, wondering what the masked man wanted to do with this 'sciende lab'.

"Maybe. Tell me, sir, do children love zoos?"

"Yes..."

"Well, what are zoos if not a lecture in biology? If you excuse me now, I have to work, I am not free to amuse myself. Monsieur de Chagny - would you like to try the tunnel of horrors? I take pride in saying it is the largest and most scary in the world. Maybe you dare to give it a try?"

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 _I'm not sure when I will be able to update. Maybe next week there won't be a new chapter. I can't promise, I'm sorry. I'll try to get back to my schedule as soon as possible._


	82. Angel of Music

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Angel of Music**

Raoul decided not to give it a try but send the teacher to watch Gustave and make sure the boy would not get into trouble. The Vicomte just wanted to be left alone for a while, trying to collect his thoughts. He still had not dared to adress the sensitive topic that troubled him most. He needed time to think.

While Meg went back to the theater to be there in time for the warm ups for her next show, Christine went to find Gustave. She found him playing at the beach with Tony, a small crowd had gathered round the two boys as they were trying to position a miniature windmill so that the wind would begin turning the wind wheel, but the wind from the sea is not string enough. "A larger wheel?" Tony suggested, "Or maybe one not made of wood but of steel and canvas?"

Gustave just began to push the wheel and inside the windmill the light bulb began to glow. To their surprise a small crowd had gathered around them. Tony took the opportunity to give a small lecture about electricity, partly dismantling the windmill to show how it worked, while Gustave was still busy spinning the wheel because the wind was still not strong enough.

Christine stood aside, smiling proudly. Obviously the two children had found a way to play together. Tony was taking the lead for Tony was the one to think quicker and had much more knowledge about science of nature than Gustave, but Gustave was stronger and was always willing to accept the role of the assistant. Now that the pecking order was established and accepted - with Tony as the leader - the children got along quite well. Christine only prayed this would be true for the fathers as well.

That moment a messenger boy approached her. "Ma'am Chagny?" he asked in typlical Yankee slang.

"Yes?" Christine hoped the child would not want to talk to her. Other than her husband who spoke English she had never learned that language. In Erik's park there were so many immigrants from various countries, if she just asked "French?" it would take only a few minutes and some employee who understood her would hurry to help her.

The boy handed her a letter, tipped his cap and disappeared between customers. Christine opened the letter and read in French a handwriting she had never seen before: "Madame de Chagny, please come to Madame Meg Y as soon as possible. She is in her penthouse on the variety." Christine wondered who might have written this. Maybe a secretary? Why didn't write Meg herself? At least it was not Erik's handwriting. As far as she knew Erik was extremely busy. Season opening meant, according to Meg, that he had much administrative work to do like any manager. He strongly disliked that but he simply had to do it - or trust his bookkeepers and assistants. He would never trust anyone completely so he rather did the work, hate it or not.

* * *

Christine went to the theater building. It looked so completely unlike everything Erik usually liked in architecture. It looked so simple, plain, there was nothing nice, it looked rather like a large block with plain windows. Erik had obviously taken what he found and accepted that the theater would be purely functional outside. Somehow she felt she could tell which building Erik had found and which he had designed himself - the ones she found beautiful and somehow playfully decorated she attributed to Erik's design - and was wrong. Erik had designed everything in a way he hoped the customers would like. There was no need that the park suited him, it had to be to the customers liking. The worm must be tasty to the fish, not the fisherman.

She went to the theater box office and asked politely to be taken to Mrs. Y. Unfortunately the woman at the counter did not undertand French and replied something, pointed to a poster with a nice drawing of Meg in a rhinestone dress. "French?" she asked and the woman nodded and called someone. A very short woman approached her.

"I'm Mrs. Fleck," she said in French with a heavy German accent, "Madame de Chagny?"

"Yes, can you take me to Mrs. Y?" Christine held up the letter, unsure if the dwarflike woman would believe her.

"This way." Irene Fleck led Christine through a maze of corridors that reminded Christine of her time as a singer. The usual smell of sweat from the dancers, perfume and make-up lingered behind the stage as various people rushed to and fro. Vincent and Antoinette Giry were barking orders. Christine smiled. Some things never changed.

They had to climb up a small wooden staircase to the roof. Irene knocked and a black woman with grey hair opened. They talked a bit in English, which Christine could not understand, then the small woman turned and began to climb downstairs. Christine did not want to look at her with pity but she wondered how life was like when one wasn't taller than a four years old child. The stairs surely were a problem - as were chairs, tables, cupboards...

The black woman gestured for her to follow her. "Is Mr. Y home?" Christine asked, not wanting to risk to run into Erik alone, but the black woman seemed not to understand and showed her a room that was clearly a music room. Large windows showed a small roof-garden and behind that the ocean. Christine took a deep breath, admiring the grand piano and the elegant furnishing. The room looked much like an elegant music room in any upper class house in Paris did.

"You are here," Erik's voice came from a concealed door she had not seen before.

"Erik! Where is Meg?" Christine paled and could not conceal her fear. She hated to be alone with Erik. Being with him in public was one thing - being in his house alone with him was completely different and despite the sunlight room and the extremely normal environment she was scared.

"On stage, I hope," Erik replied and moved closer to her, spreading his hands, "Please forgive my little trick. I had no choice, you would not have come had I invited you."

"With good reason!" Christine snapped, "Erik, this is not proper! We are both married and have children. We cannot be in one room together unchaperoned. And your maid certainly does not count as chaperone!"

Erik sighed and edged closer to her slowly. "I had to see you, Christine."

"You already did. Good day!" She turned to leave the room but found the door locked.

"Please," came Erik's voice from behind her as she tried to open the door again with growing unease, "Please, Christine, I really just want to talk. We can go to the balcony, if you prefer. I remember you like having a secret conversation on a rooftop and I assure you my rooftop garden is much better than the roof of the Opera house..." Christine shuddered. Erik's tone was light but she knew immediately that he was still hurt because she had fled to the rooftop with Raoul. "Please." He opened the door to the balcony. Christine followed him and saw that around the house was a rooftop garden and there was iron railing around it. "That was necessary," Erik informed her, "Tony is a very lively child and I had to do something to make sure he would not fall from the roof eventually."

"Erik, I want to leave," she said, trying to sound commanding but her voice gave away that she was frightened.

"Soon," he promised, leaning against the railing, standing with his back to her, "I love this view. You see the casino-ship there? That is mine. I love the ocean, can you smell the wind? Up here... these humans down there look so small, so insignificant..."

"Erik... Erik, you scare me! I want to leave **now**!"

"Soon." He turned round to face her, "Tell me, my Christine, are you happy?"

"First, I am certainly **not** your Christine, second, that is an audacious question, you should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Do not talk to me like I was a naughty boy!" Erik snapped, "I want you to answer my question, impolite as it might be. Did that boy make you happy?"

"I am happily married, thank you very much!" Her tone was icy and full of contempt, as much as she could manage. "I still have to refuse your inappropriate inquisitiveness."

"Such a Vicomtesse," Erik mocked, "He turned you into a well-trained puppet didn't he? He caged you in a golden cage and made your song die."

Christine took a sharp breath. "How dare you?" she almost yelled at him and was tempted to slap him, but she decided not to. "You were the one who tried to train me to do your bidding, to become a creature completely of your design, not him. He did not cage me, he freed me from captivity. He never forbid me to sing, I chose to leave the stage to be there for my children. You are a father, you should know that there is nothing more important than being there for your child!"

Erik flinched. This hurt as if she had really hit him. "I love Tony. Very much so, but... Christine, you are a singer. You are a natural singer, you just have to sing, how can you live without music?"

"My husband and I visit concerts and the opera every so often," she told him, "And I sing as often as I want to - in my own house. I do not need an audience or applause."

"You do?" he raised one eyebrow, "I would love to hear you sing again. Christine, sing with me again. You can't deny that you miss singing with me, you know our voices are in perfect harmony."

"Thank you, but no thank you!" Her voice was still cold as ice.

"Do not lie!"

"I am telling the truth! Don't you dare to tell me what I want! You always tried to control me, control every tiny part of my life! You told me what to do, what to think, what to feel - you tried to tell me everything! You were suffocating me! Raoul is not. He does not tell me anything, I can do whatever I like whenever it pleases me. Erik, I want to leave! Let me go or... or I'll scream for help! This building is not high enough that the people in the streets of your park won't hear me!"

Erik sighed and retreated to the music room, sadly staring at one of the pottet plants. "This one didn't survive the winter," he said and made it sound like it was Christine's fault, "I have to replace it."

She followed him to the music room and he closed the door behind her. "Just one duet, please," he begged, trying another approach. Christine had matured greatly and would not just obey his command, she was too used to giving orders now. "One duet. You cannot imagine what it was like to be bereft of music."

"You have music everywhere in this park," Christine told him, "I really love you shows."

He snorted. "That is no music. That is... entertainment for stupid masses. No, real music. Music only you can sing!"

"Ask Meg. She has a good voice."

"No, she doesn't. She can't sing a duet with me! Please, one duet, only one and I'll leave you in peace forever."

"No!"

"You are breaking my heart!"

"Let me go or I tell your wife!"

Erik sighed and hung his head. "You are heartless, Vicomtesse! Have mercy with the poor man who once was your Angel of Music."

"Angel? You never were an angel. You deceived and manipulated me, kidnapped and blackmailed me."

"So you hate me?" Erik felt like he was going to cry soon and did not like to show any weakness.

Christine's shoulders slumped and her eyes became soft, she even smiled. "No, Erik. I never hated you. I pitied you and bemoaned your cruel fate - I saw the great man you could have been had you just been born with a normal face. I could not hate you. But you have to accept that I do love Raoul - and you are married to Meg. Don't you love her?"

His silence was answer enough. Christine shook her head. "How can you be so cruel to her after all you've been through together?" she asked, she did not know any details only from Meg's letters that their life was hard and they had to fight for survival each day. She did not need to know any details to know that Erik was unfair to his wife when he was turning to her, his former pupil, again. "Let me go," she demanded, now much gentler.

Erik unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing her to leave. But as soon as she was gone he locked himself in and began hitting the keys of the piano in a great and terrible scream releasing his pain.

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 _Thank you for your patience!_

 _I hope you like this chapter. Next chapter should be up next week, I hope. Please review!_


	83. Illusions Shatter

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Illusions Shatter**

When Meg returned home the maid waited for her at the door to inform her that the master was in a terrible mood and she better be careful for he might turn violent any minute now.

Meg decided to see him anyways, especially because she already knew that Christine had been there to see her and must have met Erik instead. She did not know what to do now. She was scared that Erik might turn away from her and try to win Christine. She would not put it past Erik to kill her and Raoul so he could marry Christine. But she was absolutely sure he would never harm the children. Not Tony and not Christine's children.

So when she opened the door to the music room she was prepared to turn round and run should he make any odd move.

When she saw Erik sitting on the piano stool, his arms resting folded on the keys, his face buried in his arms, the back hunched, he looked so miserable she doubted he had the energy to become violent now.

"Erik?" she asked and found the discarded mask, cravat and wig on the floor. She picked them up and placed them on the piano as she went to stand at his side.

Erik flinched and looked up at her. His face was pale, the normal looking cheek reddened, the other an odd bluish color, his eyes red from crying. "She refuses to sing," he told Meg, "She does not even want to sing. Not even in private for me. She does not want to sing with me. She... refuses the great gift of music. She..." He shook his head and took a shuddering breath.

"You asked her to sing with you?" Meg was shocked. She knew that her voice was good enough for vaudeville shows but nothing for Erik's quite complicated opera music. Singing with him was the one thing she would never be able to give him - and she knew that he regarded singing with someone as a very intimate experience.

"I did," Erik replied and turned his head so he was looking up at her, but he stayed in his hunched sitting position with his head on his arms on the keys of the grand piano. "She refused. I did not ask her to sing in public, her husband would forbid that fearing about their reputation, I just wanted to sing with her in private. Just... the two of us. No one would ever know except us. She refused. I gave her the greatest gift I can give in this world, my music, and she refused. She rejected my music and she rejected me. She... told me to sing with you." He smiles bitterly. "No offense, but your voice is not good enough for music of high quality."

Meg stared at him, torn between the urge to slap him and to comfort him for he seemed to be really hurt. She was angry with him for trying to get Christine back - she did not doubt that if Christine would accept even the most innocent of his offers he would take that as absolute proof that he had a chance to be together with her. Since Erik was married and had experienced that women could accept him as a lover despite his ugliness - he was deformed and even those who loved him could not deny this - he had grown the necessary self-esteem to approach Christine in a completely new way. In Paris Erik would never even have thought of touching or kissing her, now Meg was sure that Erik would try to get much more from her if she gave him only the slightest chance.

But then... now Erik confided in her, his wife. "Mr. Erik Y, do you even realize how weird it is that you complain about Christine refusing to enter an adulterous realtionship with you to me, your wife?" she asked, unsure if her tone was amused, mocking or scolding. Maybe it was a mix of all three.

Erik pushed himself up to a sitting position, resting both hands on the piano as if he needed to hold onto the instrument to steady himself. He lowered his head and laughed quietly. "O Meg, I completely forget that you are my wife too - not just my best friend I can rely on to listen whenever I need to talk."

"Best friend huh?" Meg asked, both fists pressed to her sides, she stood as if she was trying to make her shoulders broader and herself taller than she was. "Best friend who rubs your sore skin with lotions and takes care of your manly needs eventually? Might I remind you that I am the mother of your child?"

Erik stared at her. She still wore a rather revealing sequin dress that sparkled in the sunlight room. She was a very attractive woman, no doubt. "Meg, not now. I am... not in the mood."

"Neither am I, Mr. Don Juan!"

"Meg, Don is a title, you do not call anyone Mr. Don!" Erik laughed.

"Stop lecturing me!" she snapped, "I am not a child! I am the mother of our child and I am your wife and I am the most important business partner you have for I am the one to keep you functioning! If I do not throw you out of your bed in the morning, see to it that you eat and drink properly and keep all minor problems away from you so you can concentrate on the important things you would be dead and buried by now!"

"You overestimate your value," he replied icily, then his gaze softened, "But I have to admit that you were always at my side, especially in bad times."

"That is what a wife is for," she told him in a voice that reminded him uncomfortably of her mother, "And if I had to make the choice to follow you here or to betray you in Paris again, I would do exactly the same I did - I would help you."

"All of it?" he asked, "We faced so many problems, it was so very hard..."

"We faced them together and that is all that matters to me," Meg replied with a smile, "O Erik, don't you see that you are loving a mirage? The Christine you imagined never existed. The Christine that does exist is a princess. Do you think a princess would rub lotion in your sore and inflamed skinfolds? Do you think a princess would wipe up vomit when you had your hangovers or empty your chamber pot? Would a princess change your babie's nappies and put up with your temper? Don't get me wrong, I like Christine very much, but she is a princess, a lady. What you need is a woman who has both feet firmly on the ground - you have your head so far up in the clouds, you need someone to anchor you to reality and care for you or you'd lose your mind completely."

Erik stared at her and for the first time in weeks really listend to her words. She was right, without her - what would he be? A freak drinking himself to death to be able to bear the shame of being a freak in a freakshow only to earn enough to buy more alcohol and drugs? He had not forgotten that it was Meg who was at his side when he was ready to give up and slowly kill himself with drugs. She was the one who had reawakened his fighting spirit. She was the one who was at his side even when he had not made it easy for her. "She rejected me when I was groveling at her feet and wanted nothing but give her the gift of music - and you... you were at my side when I was... well, not at my best behavior."

Both smiled, knowing this was an understatement.

"Meg... I... I love you."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Finally Erik realizes it... took him long enough!_

 _I hope you liked this chapter. During the holiday season July/August I will not be able to update regularly and beg your indulgence. But of course I will finish this story, don't worry!_

 _Please review! Reviews are so inspiring to write more!_


	84. Time to Talk

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Time to Talk**

In the morning four policemen knocked at the door. The black maid opened drowsily, asking what they wanted. They showed her a paper that said that Mr. Erik Y was under arrest. The maid did not dare to risk waking her master herself, so she went to wake Meg. Meg was wide awake in no time and rushed to wake Erik who would certainly react better to her than to four policemen.

Erik was fast asleep like every morning. "Erik, wake up!" Meg called and pulled away his blanket.

He groaned and pulled one of the pillows over his head. "Let me sleep!" he begged groggily.

"Get up, the police is there to arrest you!" Meg was close to being hysteric.

"O God... De Mer! I completely forgot about him!" Erik tried to jump out of his bed but he couldn't. He tried to get up too fast and suddenly felt lightheaded so much he had to sit down again. "Woa. That... that was..." He shook his head, trying to clear his head. "Getting arrested before the first coffee in the morning. Can this day get any worse?" he complained, "And... where is my shirt?"

"In the laundry, I guess."

Erik opened his cupboard and stared at the various shirts and suits, unsure what he should put on now. He wanted to wear something elegant, but if he had to spend time in a holding cell - which was quite possible - he should have something warm and comfortable.

"Here - the dark brown suit. And the warm socks." Meg found the things immedeately while Erik was still trying to wake up fully. She placed them on his bed and asked annoyed: "Do I have to help you get dressed?"

"How can you be wide awake in the middle of the night?" He complained, got out of his nightstirt and put on his shirt.

Meg almost laughed at how casual he got undressed or dressed before her now. There was no shyness or shame, she knew his body well and he had nothing to hide. It was a sign of trust. Then she noticed as he sat with his half- buttoned shirt on the bed to put on his socks that he was dozing off again, the right sock on his foot, the left not. "No sleeping!" she scolded him laughing and snapped her fingers to get his attention.

He groaned and put on his second sock and the trousers. Meg noticed that he had not buttoned his shirt correctly. "Here, let me help you," she offered and unbottoned his shirt before buttoning it again. She even helped him with his necktie.

Then she went to the parlor where the four policemen waited. "Gentlemen, please excuse my husband for a moment. May I offer something? A cup of coffee perhaps?"

The policemen agreed. It was unusal to be invited to have breakfast with the man they were ordered to arrest, but then - a good breakfast was a good breakfast. Meg did her best to entertain them to give Erik some time to wake up fully and get his bearings while sending one of the messenger boys to inform the Vicomte that he would be arrested soon. To the policemen's great relief Mr. Y did not even try to run. Running away from the law would get him in even worse trouble, especially because he still hoped to convinde de Mer that it had all been a trick and no real duel. If only the Vicomte would be able to keep silent!

When they were on their way down, Meg had managed to get the policemen to relax enough Erik was not shackled or suffered any indignity. He just accompanied them as if he was going with them by his own choice. He even lead them to the hotel where they would find Raoul - the Vicomte was already up for some hours and reading a book in the hotel's library. Erik was a bit surprised to find that his hotel had a library, he hadn't known that.

Raoul just left a note for Christine not to worry about him at the reception desk and went with the policemen without any protests. The four policemen who had been warned that Mr. Y's temper was notorious and a French aristocrat would never take orders from someone below his social rank - were surprised to find both men very cooperative.

* * *

When Raoul and Erik were led to the office of head of prosecution de Mer it looked more like they were just making a social visit than two arrested men being led to an interrogation. The policemen did everything not to upset them and even apologized but they had to do their jobs and Erik generously gave them free tickets for his amusement park telling them he understood that they were just doing their duty - but he hoped to see them and their families soon in his park. Raoul wondered how this man could be so charming if he wanted to. Was this really the Phantom? Right now he spoke more like Firmin, the manager of the opera in Paris!

When they entered the office de Mer looked up from the file he was reading in a way that told Erik that the prosecutor had practiced this stern looking up hard before a mirror. Being a showman himself he knew how to stage oneself to be intimidating.

"Good morning, Mr. de Mer!" Erik greeted with a stage-bow. It looked like he was being overly polite in a way he was mocking the other man but this was not true - he simply slipped into his stage-act involutarily now that he felt he had an audience. Fortunately for him de Mer knew him well enough not to be offended by odd behavior.

"Took you long enough!" de Mer grunted, "How many hours is it from Coney Island to the court of justice in New York? Even on foot you should have been here yesterday. Or did you intend to take an indirect route, maybe via Spain? France? Ireland?"

"Certainly not!" Erik replied indignantly, "I would never run from the law!"

Raoul tried in vain to hide his laughter behind a faked cough. De Mer smiled, seeing his suspicion confirmed. A man like Mr. Y does not simply show up like any other immigrant - that man had quite a history and de Mer would have loved to find out what it was. He already suspected him to be a fugitive in his homecountry. Now that French aristocrat seemed to confirm that involuntarily.

"Monsieur de Chagny, do you need a glass of water?" the prosecutor asked with a grin, "You sound like you can't take certain things here in New York!" Raoul politely declined. "Very well. Now... Mr. Y, Mr. Chagny..."

"Actually it is Vicomte de Chagny. Thank you," Raoul corrected him, he was proud of his heritage and his name.

Erik made a gesture Raoul could not see but de Mer understood immediately - Erik despised the aristocratic haughtiness.

"Mr. de Chagny," de Mer corrected himself, "Maybe the law in France is different - but here in New York duels are strictly forbidden. Anyone who fights a duel despite that law is to be punished. We are not in the middle ages where self-administered justice and an archaic code of honor caused a terror of the strong and a bloodbath."

"Duels are not allowed in France," Raoul informed him politely, "Even if I do not know the punishment here I was well aware that duels are not allowed."

"It was no duel!" Erik snapped, "I told you before, Mr. de Mer, **it was no duel**. It was just a cleverly staged magic show. I am a magician! Do you really think I would be so stupid to risk my life like this?"

"Then why would your opponent state it was a duel?"

"Because he's a fool," Erik replied.

"I believe you that you think he's a fool. I guess any lawyer would call him a fool for admitting the truth when you offer such an easy way out. He would just have to be silent."

"Silence would be lying," the Vicomte stated, "I'd rather die than lose my honor."

Erik snorted. "You do not regard your life very precious, do you? I remember a trembling fool hanging in a noose being saved by a girl. Where was your honor then?"

"You are the last one who has any right to lecture me about honor, Mr. Erik Y, or shall I better call you Mr. Ghost?"

"Mr. Ghost?" de Mer had listened very carefully to their talking, "This is far more than the usual duel, isn't it? Between the two of you is a very long standing and deep rooted hatred. Well, I think I know the perfect cure for you two hotheaded Frenchmen. One night in a holding cell together might work miracles, gentlemen, miracles!"

"What? No!" Erik and Raoul exclaimed like one, "You can't do this!"

"I can and I will. I can lock you up and tomorrow you tell me if you found any agreement if this was a duel or not. And Mr. Y - if I find only one hair on his head harmed in the moring, you will never leave the prison, you have my word on that. Mr. de Chagny, I hope you engage in a sport like boxing? I think Mr. Y arrived here badly bruised because of a nasty traffic accident, didn't he?"

"You can't do this!" Erik protested.

De Mer smiled triumphantly. "Of course. You taught me such tricks. It is up to you to find a civilized way to solve your problems and I am doing you a great favor teaching you."

"This is not fair! He married the woman I loved! He tried to kill me!" Erik protested again.

"You kidnapped her and tried to murder me!" Raoul retorted.

"Shall I call a notary so you both can have your last will taken down?" de Mer interrupted them and called the policemen to take both gentlemen to a holding cell for one night. He was quite sure one night in a holding cell would solve his problem with the two of them one way or another.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _to be continued..._


	85. Time to Talk (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Time to Talk (cont.)**

The holding cell was very comfortable for a holding cell - it was much better than many normal flats for the lower class people. It was one room with two narrow beds, a table and two chairs. There were two doors - one to the corridor and one to a tiny bathroom with a toilet and a washbasin with running water, only cold, but there was indoor plumbing and running water. That was most unusal. Normally in holding cells was just a covered bucket - which would lead to various problems in overcrowded holding cells during the night when no one would be able to empty the bucket.

"Are all prisons that luxurious?" Raoul asked astonished.

"I wouldn't know. I've never seen a prison from inside," Erik replied with a shrug that should show his cold indifference, but he could not hide his nervousness. "But I guess not. This is much better than many boarding houses are, much better than many flats for working class families are."

"Do you think he really wants us in prison?" The Vicomte suddenly sounded scared.

"I have no idea what de Mer wants," Erik grumbled, "But you can be sure that he is absolutely not corruptible."

Raoul sat down on one of the chairs. "I think I like the man. But he really could have placed us in seperate holding cells. I do not understand his idea behind this."

"I do, and I don't like it," Erik replied, checking his pockets. The idiots of policemen had not found the lasso, the tools for picking locks, a small knife in his left shoe. They had just found the obvious - a showy revolver with much silver ornaments. That revolver was not for fighting, it was for giving the policemen something they could confiscate and make them feel good for finding that - and less thorough in searching. "He wants us to 'talk it out' - to solve our animosity somehow without killing each other."

"Then he has a strange humor, he practically told me to beat you up."

"Well... yes, that much is obvious. But I assure you that won't be a good idea unless you want to commit suicide?"

* * *

Spending a night together in a holding cell with nothing to do was wracking both men's nerves, but it was worse for Raoul, who was not used to being with someone and not talking - which was not something Erik had not done before. Erik's problem was that he felt like he was in that holding cell with a panicked tiger who might attack any moment now. Raoul thought of Erik as a very aggressive wolf who might bite at the slightest movement, so both sat stock-still and watched each other carefully.

It took some time until Raoul said he'd need some water.

"I wouldn't do that," Erik warned him, "The water is not ready for drinking - it has to be boiled first."

"Well... maybe I can call a guard?" Raoul suggested the obvious, trusting that the lawmen would be honorable men who would certainly not want a prisoner - who hadn't even stood trial so he had a fair chance to be found not guilty - to suffer needlessly. When he went to the door and called for a guard a man came and asked why he was shouting like this.

"May I have some drinking water, please?" Raoul asked politely.

The guard laughed. "And what would the gentleman order for dinner? Lobster and caviar? You Frenchmen are such curious guys! Have you ever noticed that you are in a prison, not a hotel with room service!" He turned to leave and tell his colleagues of the stupid ideas a French aristocrat had about being a prisoner. But he was kind enough to inform Raoul that they would get dinner.

"It seems this did not go well," Raoul sighed.

"Better than I assumed," Erik remarked, "I thought he'd beat you to pulp or make you drink your own urine or something like that."

Raoul shook his head as he sat down on his cot again. "You have a cruel fantasy."

"No. Just experience. People are like that - if they have someone at their mercy they torture him for fun. It is just what people are like."

Raoul did not question the masked man's statement, he just sat there, staring at the window, only watching Erik from the corner of his eye. Erik seemed to be unusually patient and quiet, but then, what could the masked man do without everyone immediately knowing it had been him? Even if he still hoped to convince the prosecutor that it was not a real duel - which Raoul doubted, he had loaded the pistol himself and still wondered how he could have missed Erik - if the masked man did anything bad now, everyone would know it was him. Raoul was quite sure Erik would not be stupid enough to do anything now.

* * *

It was late at night when Raoul finally could not take the silence any longer. They had eaten what they were given in silence - both wondering why they were treated so well - but neither one could bring himself to relax and sleep with the worst enemy in the same room. The coldness of the night forced them to seek warmth huddled on the beds, covered in blankets.

"Mr. Y - or do you prefer I call you Monsieur Phantom?" Raoul asked under his breath, testing if Erik was awake. They were speaking French and Raoul noticed that Erik had a slight English accent now. Not much, but being in America for so many years and using mainly English had caused that.

"It is Mr. Y now, thank you," Erik replied.

"Why do you insist that the duel was not real?" Raoul asked. He had hours to think why he was in that prison and thought about the details of the duel again and again. Erik had stumbled at his shot - had he hit the man? But there had been no blood, Erik had been able to stand, to shoot and to talk. Raoul remembered aiming for the other man's heart.

"Because I do not want to be sentenced to years in prison!" Erik snapped, "So kindly agree with me tomorrow that we were just faking the duel."

"I think you were telling de Mer more truth than you would care to admit, weren't you?" Raoul narrowed his eyes but he could not see if Erik showed any reaction. The window had no shutters, no curtains so a faint light from the gaslight in the streets and the moonlight fell into the room.

Erik was silent, thinking of an answer. He could not confess the truth, but what lie would be believable? "It was a real duel. Real weapons, real chance to kill you - or you could have killed me," he hastily added. In a way it was true - had Raoul aimed for the head, he would be dead.

Raoul inhaled sharply. He was not convinced. "So we are going to give a full confession tomorrow as this de Mer demands?"

Erik fought hard for an answer. He found himself cornered and hated that - he could either tell the Vicomte the truth, confessing to cowardice and cheating - or lying and facing a prison sentence for participating in an illegal duel. "I will admit that it was a duel," he said, "You don't have to worry about having to lie to a judge. But you have to promise me that both of us won't say a word without my lawyer present - and we have to speak with him before we answer any questions!"

"On that we can agree."

"Fine!"

"Do you always have to have the last word?"

"Yes. I have to run two businesses - do you really think I can allow myself to lose an argument? Except with my son, that is."

Raoul smiled. "Well, have you ever tried to argue with five children at the same time? Now THAT is a trial!"

"One child is enough for me!" Erik sighed and he meant it. Another child like Tony - Erik was sure he would never survive that!

They were silent for a long time, then it was again Raoul who spoke up first. "Two business enterprises?" he asked curiously, "The amusement park and...?"

"I own only half of it. A shipping company." Erik sighed and shifted. The small and hard bed was uncomfortable and his bones reminded him of his age. She should be in a warm and soft bed now.

"A shipping company?" Raoul's voice was suddenly shrill.

Erik flinched. Had he said something wrong? He tried in vain to figure out why being shareholder of a shipping company would cause the Vicomte to be alarmed.

"You had the money to buy shares of a shipping company but you couldn't pay back the loan?" the Vicomte furiously demanded.

Erik shrugged unseen in the darkness. He would of course not admit that it had been a rigged gamble that earned him this property.

The Vicomte repeated his question a few times, each time a bit louder than the last until Erik decided he had to answer or the stupid boy would alert the guards to them. "Why is that so important? When you gave me the loan with the explicit 'pay back whenever convenient' I thought the money wasn't so important for you."

The Vicomte sighed. "I thought I wouldn't need the money so soon. 100.000 Dollars is very much money, of course I was aware you would need much time to pay it back - if ever. Christine asked me to save Meg's husband from debtor's prison so I assumed that you were close to bankruptcy... I knew it was a very high risk to lend money to a man who should, according to the law, have declared bankruptcy months ago." He waited for an answer that never came. But he decided to press on. "Or was this a lie to get the loan?"

"No. I would never have asked Christine for money. Meg did that behind my back and... I would never have accepted the money if it wasn't a really dire situation."

Raoul chuckled quietly. "I haven't thought you'd have a sense of honor - but obviously I was mistaken."

"Why would I lie about that? It is in the past - and you can find out the truth easily," Erik replied wearily, knowing he sounded a bit defeated. It was humiliating that his rival had saved him back then.

"I respect your honesty," the Vicomte inclined his head and turned to look fully at the huddled figure on the other bed. "So I will tell you the truth as well. I need the money back and I need it soon."

"Why?"

"Well... maybe you know that I own a shipyard. A company that builds various ships - mostly smaller sailing ships and smaller steamships." With "small" he did not really mean small - the ships his company build were quite large but there were much larger ships on the ocean these days.

"You own a **what**?" Erik sat upright and suddenly had to laugh. "This situation is so absurd... The owner of a dockyard and the owner of a shipping company should be natural allies."

The Vicomte joined his laughter. "It would be much more funny if we were in a nice bar and not in a prison cell," he shot back laughing.

"So... why do you need the money when you have a successful shipyard?" Erik asked when he recovered from his mirth.

"Well..." the younger man shifted uncomfortably, "I had to invest much to be able to build larger ships. I had three orders for large ocean steamers and thought this was a good idea."

"Sounds like one."

"It was, but... the shipping company which ordered the ships is in bankruptcy. And I have nearly finished the first steamship and no one wants to buy it now."

"But the enlargement of the dockyards was financed with outside capital?" Erik asked, knowing all too well where this would lead to.

"A loan."

"And now you have a problem. Tell me, does Christine know?" Erik inquired, not in an offensive way, he was just curious. And he could not help enjoying that he now found out that the de Chagny family was not as perfect as they liked to present themselves.

"No. Tell me, did you tell your wife Meg immediately when you were in trouble?"

"She found out when I wasn't able to put any food on the table," the older man confessed, "It would have been much easier if I had told her earlier."

"So... are you paying back the 100.000 Dollars now?"

"No," Erik answered dryly.

"No? What do you mean, no? Do you know no honor?" Raoul could barely restrain himself from yelling and his hands itched to hit the masked bastard who was responsible for this whole mess.

"You can't catch me with that card. Pick another one!" Erik teased him further.

The Vicomte took a deep breath to calm himself. "So I have to tell my wife of the problems and I have to inform her that her trust in you is absolutely misplaced?"

This caused Erik to think of it again. "Telling your wife is a good idea, but do not expect me to give you 100.000!"

"You do not want to keep your part of the bargain? I saved your worthless..." the Vicomte managed to stop himself before using some cursewords.

"I **can't** ," Erik had to admit, "The money is in the park, in the shipping company... I do not have that much money. But... I can give you about 20.000. Maybe the shipping company can get investors for another casino-ship... but I can't promise that."

"Investors would do that?"

"With a ship as security and the profit of the other casino-ship? Most likely. Tell me more about that ship - can it be turned into a swimming casino? A pleasure cruise ship with theaters and casinos which leaves nothing to be desired for paying customers?"

"It is designed as a common steamship for cargo and passengers like many others. But I guess one can turn the cargo-rooms to something different..."

Erik grinned as he relaxed visibly. "Remind me to send de Mer large bottle of the finest French champagner," he said, "We would never have had this talk if he hadn't forced us into this damned holding cell!" And they had successfully avoided the real issue between them - Christine.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _It seems de Mer's plan is working. Both are behaving rational for now..._

 _Thank you for reading! Please review!_


	86. Creative Punishment

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Creative Punishment**

Meg was very worried as Erik was arrested and went to see Christine to discuss what they could do now. Christine was close to hyperventilating and crying - her husband arrested! She could barely believe it and thought he would be tortured in some Medieval-age tower.

It was Dr. Gängelmann who suggested that they should go to see Erik's lawyer. That man knew something of his business and he knew Erik so being alerted that his client was arrested wouldn't surprise him too much. The tall doctor just took the two women in one of the park's carriages to uptown New York to see the lawyer.

The lawyer was an elderly man with grey hair and a grey beard. He was not happy to have two hysterical women in his office, begging him to help their husbands to get out of prison immediately. He had that far too often. Why couldn't these women not understand that like everything in life justice needed proper time? One can't expect to have a "not guilty" sentence on the same day as being arrested. Such things take months.

Christine nearly fainted when Meg translated to her what the lawyer had said. "Months? But Raoul is managing the family property! If he's gone for months or maybe longer we might lose everything!"

"Do you think Phantasma can survive one day without Erik? He's in charge for everything!" Meg implored the lawyer, "The same goes for Raoul de Chagny - they... have to be there or everything falls apart!"

"I'll go to the prosecution tomorrow," the lawyer promised, "Do you know who the prosecutor in charge is and why they were arrested?" When Meg explained that it was a duel the aged lawyer chuckled. "O my. So let's hope we find a judge who values the code of honor."

* * *

The lawyer went to de Mer before he would see his client. He was not surprised that de Mer greeted him "You're late. I would have guessed Mrs. Y would send you in yesterday."

"Good day to you too, sir," the lawyer said and took off his hat. "And you would have sent me away. So... what do we have?"

"Depends. If they confess I might write on my indictment: defendants Mr. Chagny and Mr. Y. And if they don't confess it will be Mr. Y and Mr. de Chagny." The threat hit a chord with the lawyer. After all, judges were assigned according to the files names, some for A-C, another set for D-E, and so on and so forth. Both lawyers were aware of the judges' standings. Listed as de Chagny first they would fall under the jurisdiction of an old fashion judge whose family had several times defended their honor through dueling in Europe and into the colonial days of America. However, listed in the latter form it fell under a judge with a strict adherence to the newer anti-dueling laws. There would be no quarter from that bench.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Of course I will! So... you better tell them to confess. And I will be there seeing if they are behaving well. You can talk with them after I checked if they are both alive and well."

* * *

When the lawyer and the prosecutor came to the wing with the holding cells, they were greeted by laughing guards. "What is so funny?" de Mer inquired.

"The two Frenchmen. It seems they were talking business all night long."

"Business?" the lawyer stared at de Mer, "If one of them is hurt you are in for a load of trouble! I'd love to sue the state of New York!"

The guard unlocked the door and they saw both men sitting at the table, taking notes in a notebook. They turned around to see who was disturbing them. "Would you close the door, please? We aren't done yet!" Erik snapped sounding annoyed. Raoul fought to keep a straight face as they had practiced this little show for the prosecutor, pretending they were having fun and the best friends now. Of course it was a show, but the Vicomte was at ease with Erik's plan to pretend that they were associates now. This was true - even if Raoul did not like Erik's ideas for the ships. The first one would be a casino ship and Erik was optimistic that his shipping company would buy two more ships with slight adaptations. Adaptations designed by Erik - secret passageways, secret rooms, secret storerooms. These two ships would be perfect for smugglers. The Vicomte didn't like the idea at all - but when Erik explained to him that with ordinary ships he would never be able to draw in investors and make enough profit to pay them back, he agreed. He was just building the ships - if anyone used them for something illegal, it was not his fault.

De Mer turned to the guards and asked furiously: "A notebook and a pen? How could you miss that when you were searching him?"

* * *

The lawyer was left alone with his client - or clients as both of them decided that they agreed on what had happened and wouldn't need a second lawyer to complicate things - and asked what had happened. Already knowing Mr. Y he cautioned him to tell the truth now, the experienced lawyer would inform him what he could say and what he should better not. And of course he informed them of the talk he had with de Mer.

"Plea bargaining," the lawyer told them, "You give a confession and de Mer will send this case to a judge who has great sympathy for honorable men defending their honor in this way."

"That's illegal!" Raoul gasped, "This is... audacious! One can't bargain with justice!"

"In Europe this is illegal," the lawyer explained, "here in America it is widely accepted, we call it plea bargaining. So... what am I to tell de Mer?"

"Well... it was a duel," Erik reluctantly gave in, "Would it be good to explain that we had no choice because the quarrel had been noticed by bystanders?"

"If de Mer keeps his word, yes. And... it would help very much if you had an honorable reason for this quarrel?"

Erik and Raoul shrugged. Their sons had fought, which wasn't any real reason for a duel.

"Surely you wouldn't duel without a very good reason?"

"What would be a good reason?" Erik asked, knowing he needed to know the rules before he could answer.

"Give me something that sounds like it is directly from some novel. Judge and jury would love that."

"Well..." Erik spread his hands, "This started long ago in France... we were courting the same woman. She married him, I left France. But I have to admit that I still don't... didn't like him."

"On that I can agree," Raoul stated. It was no lie.

"And now you are the best friends?" the lawyer asked, then winked at them, "Nice show for the prosecution, Mr. Y, but I expected no less from a showman like you."

"Business associates," Erik corrected, "I am shareholder of a shipping company, he's owner of a shipyard - I think we came to an agreement."

"An agreement that includes you paying back your debt!" The Vicomte crossed his arms and put on a stern look.

"Yes, yes, yes - twenty thousand dollars now and the rest in installments. But finding investors for the new ships is more important now because I can't buy any ship now."

That got the lawyer's attention. "Sounds like a good idea. My partner has extensive experience with such contracts... maybe we could talk about that later, when you are out of this prison cell?" Of course he hoped to get some money too - and being in charge of the contracts would be a good thing.

* * *

De Mer was glad when the lawyer informed him that both defendants would plead guilty, confessing that they had a duel. He explained to de Mer in a well-worded speech that both gentlemen knew each other from years ago in France where they had been rivals fighting for the love of a beautiful woman.

"O please, this sounds far too much like one of the more romantic shows in Mr. Y's variety than something that happens in life!" De Mer was sceptical, "I don't even want to hear it! All I want to know is if one of your clients plans to leave New York?"

Raoul protested: "I have to return to France! My family and I planned for a nice holiday but not a longer stay."

"So you are asking me to get this over with swiftly? Go to the judge and ask him to work overtime?"

"I would gladly compensate the judge for his troubles, but I guess you would call that bribery?" Erik asked grinning, "But we would both be very grateful if this could be handled discreetly and quickly."

"You are the most audacious culprit I ever saw!" de Mer snapped but he was smiling amused, "So... I talk to the judge. I guess since both gentlemen didn't plan to go to prison you would prefer a short time in prison and a money fine?"

"I would prefer if you found my clients too sick to be sent to prison," the lawyer replied, "Just look at them - they wouldn't survive another day in prison!"

De Mer raised one eyebrow. "Really? Well, I guess you have a few doctors to confirm your version, I can call some to state the opposite. Or we cut this short and agree on house arrest for one month?"

Since it was no prison sentence, it was not as dishonorable as prison. This was something extremely important - being sentenced to prison would mean a gentleman would lose his honor. To be sentenced to a money fine or to house arrest, a gentleman would not lose his honor completely. Of course being sentenced at all was shameful, but one could recover from being sentenced to house arrest.

"One month?" Erik gasped, "How can I possibly be away for one month? I have to run a business!"

The Vicomte was a bit more at ease with this suggestion. "I hadn't planned for such a long holiday, but two weeks more or less aren't a problem. But I do not have a home here in New York. But if the hotel at Phantasma counts as house arrest, I agree. Gladly. I count on Mr. Y's generosity so my family and I can stay in his park for free as long as we like to." Raoul grinned. He liked the thought that his ex-rival would have to pay for their prolonged holiday. It was petty revenge, but he loved it nevertheless.

Erik thought about that as well. House arrest. Well, if one counted all of Phantasma as his home he didn't see any problem with that - he seldom left it anyways, one month wouldn't be such a problem.

"It is one month if you agree now - or six months if you keep me waiting," de Mer decided to use some pressure.

"Then I agree," Erik and Raoul said, both did not want to risk a longer punishment.

"And the money fine... or social service or whatever you want to call it. You two will build a chapel or a church on Coney Island. Mr. Y, I am sure you agree with me that the people on Coney Island need someone to pray for their souls?"

"A... church? Have you any idea how much that costs?" Erik gasped.

"I do and I think you could do something selfless for once!" De Mer grinned widely. He knew this hurt Erik much more than the house arrest. "You don't have to do it immediately, but as far as I understood you two had a very profitable idea for business. So building a small church won't be a problem, would it?"

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _A huge THANK YOU to Shadowcrest Nightingale who was my beta-reader for this chapter and helped with some historical facts._

 _Sorry for the long delay, I was very busy._

 _Please review!_


	87. From One Woman to Another

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **From One Woman to Another**

In the evening Erik and Raoul finally returned to Coney island in a cab, a horse-drawn carriage. When they got out of the cab both swayed slightly as if drunk, but they weren't. Both were weary from lack of sleep. "Is there a post office on Coney Island?" Raoul asked, "I have to send an express letter to my dockyard and the bank. They have to know that the ship is sold."

"Not so fast, I don't have the investors." Erik cautioned him.

"How fast can you get them? A week? Then the letter will arrive when you already have the investors."

"Do you want to kill me?" Erik groaned, "Alright, I will send a message to my lawyer to use his connections. This will cost me a fortune!"

"Maybe de Mer wants to invest?" Raoul asked with a grin, "It was more or less his idea, wasn't it?"

Erik stared at the younger man and suddenly the pent-up tension released itself in mirth. They both laughed so hard, they had to hold onto the wall or they might have fallen.

When Meg and Christine came to see them, they were shocked to see both men leaning against a wall, laughing hard and swaying on their feet.

Meg rushed to Erik and slapped him, yelling, "You idiot! You are stinking drunk!"

"That is not true! I am perfectly sober!" he pushed her away roughly. "Ask him!"

"True. We did not drink anything but tea," Raoul confirmed.

Meg wasn't convinced. "Since when are you such good friends?"

"Meg, please. They need rest," Christine tried to calm her friend, then added with a slightly disgusted smile: "And a bath."

Erik rolled his eyes and whispered to Meg: "It seems in their marriage she's the one wearing the trousers... as gentle and sweet as she is."

Meg couldn't help grinning. "Maybe. And now you are going to bed or you won't be able to catch up with the work you missed in the last two days! Tony had to stand in for the magic show three times! You can't imagine the pile of letters and telegrams on your desk and how many of them bear the mark 'urgent'. Including that of your tax advisor and your lawyer and the shipping company, your banker..."

Erik massaged his temples. "I'm going to bed. I have a terrible headache."

* * *

Soon after that Christine and Meg sat at the cafe - Christine hated the word bar - and had tea and cake and watched Tony and Gustave at the beach.

"Gustave is absolutely fascinated by Tony's tricks," Christine said, "I'm so glad they do no longer fight."

Meg watched both children some time then she chuckled. "O no, Gustave knows perfectly well what he is doing."

"What? But... Gustave is with the audience, watching Tony..."

"No. He is Tony's secret assistant," Meg explained, sipping her tea, "He is giving Tony secret signals. That's how Tony's 'clairvoyance' works. It is just a simpler variant of one of Erik's tricks."

"O. It is... difficult to imagine Erik working with someone else..."

"Christine, are you really that naive? Even in the opera Erik had his assistents, among them my mother and... some others. He paid well, but that is how the Phantom was all-knowing and omnipresent." Meg laughed, "Erik always was a trickster."

Christine smiled sadly. "So the monster I was afraid of was... what? Just a man desperate enough to create the illusion of a monster?"

Meg frowned. "O no, you get this all wrong: He is much worse than his reputation. Here in Coney Island he's... well... it is a twisted reputation. He dethroned the local crimelord only to replace him. But Erik is different, - he never was a brute. Instead of using open threats and violence he uses a more cultivated way. Less illegal, if you understand what I am talking about. He runs this park, Phantasma, with the sugar-coated family area accessible, with the darker area where no minors and no women are allowed. He runs a security-firm, giving the thugs who previously worked for the crimelord a legal occupation. They are doing very much the same, beating up everyone who disturbs his business. And of course he protects others as well who pay for his protection. He does not need to blackmail them - if one doesn't have security guards, the small-time crooks more or less overrun their parks because Erik drives them away everywhere else."

"Sounds legal enough for me," Christine replied wide-eyed, "Everyone would want criminals out of their area."

Meg chuckled. "Gambling is illegal - so he just moved the casino to a ship. As soon as the ship is far enough away from the coast the gambling halls open and men can gamble as much as they want. He just has to make sure the gambling stops before the ship reaches the harbor again." Meg became serious as she looked at the beach - Tony and Gustave had decided to be just boys now and dug a hole in the ground to install a tiny wooden water-weel.

"So he is a better man now," Christine gave a sigh of relief.

"He finances an orphanage where kids working in his textile factory. It is good for the children because he gives them food and shelter and even an education and they learn skills as factory workers - but... I don't like to see such young children working in a factory. Unfortunately we have to turn down children, because everyone wants in his orphanage - the other orphanages are much worse."

"Then... this is good?" Christine couldn't help questioning her friend's statement.

"Yes... well, it just shows how complicated everything is. It is not just good and bad, Erik is always somewhere in between. But since he wants to be a good father, one Tony would be proud of, he tries hard to be a better man. Now tell me, Christine, how is your life as Vicomtesse? Surely not as strenous as mine as lead dancer in a Coney-Island-Variety? It must be great to live a fairy tale."

Christine laughed. "Only that a fairy tale ends when the knight in shining armor marries the princess. No one ever tells about the endless nightmares we had, no one tells of society rejecting the opera singer marrying up, no one tells about the pressure to have children - of everyone staring at your stomach and all the rumors that the child might be born a bit too soon - which Gustave wasn't, thank heavens - and what that might indicate. I feel like I am on display even more than on stage with everyone watching my every move. If I gain some weight, everyone is gossiping if I am pregnant again, if I lose some weight, the papers speculate I might be ill. It is so... annoying. Really."

"But Raoul is a good husband?" Meg asked, alarmed by Christine's sudden change of mood.

"O yes, he is. He is a very good husband, gentle, understanding and loving and he is good to the children. It is just... he has to manage the family property and that is so much weight on his shoulders and he is so young... sometimes I am so scared it might be too much for him," Christine admitted, having finished her cake, "Not that he would behave badly, but sometimes he... drinks too much. I am so very worried when he does. Not that he is a drunkenard, certainly not, and he does not drink every day or something like that... but there are weeks when he drinks each day and it becomes more and more... and then he is... impatient and grumpy and sometimes it scares me."

Meg jumped a little in her seat and dropped her spoon. "O no!" she exclaimed, a bit louder than she wanted to, then looked around to find that no one paid any attention to the two ladies chatting and whispered: "Erik would kill me if he knew I told you - but Erik and I have been through very rough times and... there was a time when he drank by far too much. He was... well... he needed it as relief from the strain he could no longer bear, but... then it became a problem itself. You have absolutely no idea what Erik can be like when intoxicated. Believe me, you don't want to know that! But... now that you tell me Raoul is... well..." she spread her hands in a meaningful gesture.

"No, he is not!" Christine protested immediately, then added, "Well... sometimes. I do not even know what is troubling him so much, he refuses to tell me."

"Let me guess - this is nothing for women?" Meg gave an annoyed sigh, "That is Erik's favorite line when I ask something he does not want to answer."

Christine smiled wearily. "I did not think they would have that in common. But... well, yes, sometimes I am scared. Sometimes Raoul is so... I do not know. He locks himself in his room with a bottle of whatever. He mostly does that after a day full of work. One day he threatened the girls that he would hit them if they would not leave him in peace. Not that he would ever raise a hand against a child or me..."

"I wish I could say that about Erik. He... is not above using violence." Meg looked aside, staring at the bar. She refused to lover her eyes but she could not look at her friend for she needed a moment to compose herself. Then she put on a brave smile and turned back to Christine.

The dark haired woman clasped her hand over her mouth. "O my God! My poor Meg!" she exclaimed, "He always scared me, but... I never thought he would really hurt a woman."

Meg laughed. "O my, how naive can you be? He kidnapped you twice, he dropped the stage dressing on Carlotta, he killed Buquet and Piangi, you saw their bodies with your own eyes, and you still believe he's incapable of violence?"

"Do you hate him, Meg? Why do you speak so cruelly of your husband?"

Meg looked aside to watch Tony and Gustave again. "Because... I am being realistic. He is far from being perfect. Sometimes I just wanted to kill him and then..." she smiled fondly, "sometimes he is so sweet, so gentle, so full of love and he is so... I can't describe it... he suffered so much in his life but he never gave up. He always tried it again and again, no matter how often he lost everything... You never saw the worst of him and you never saw the best of him. I did. And I wouldn't want it in any other way."

"So he found love," Christine mused, "I am so happy for him. I am so happy that he found love, he was so... lonely. Desperate."

"You have no idea what it is like to see him **desperate** ," Meg snapped, unable to hide her jealousy. Then forced herself to smile, "It is not your fault he is still in love with you."

Christine rolled her eyes. "As if I were likely to forget that! I wish he didn't! I love Raoul and I love my family and Erik... well, he still scares me. I do pity him, I know his life was very hard, but I cannot understand why he still tries to get to me when he has you and you have a wonderful son! Tony is so beautiful, he looks much like you! I remember when Raoul was a child - he was sometimes mistaken for a girl because of his blonde locks and small-boned stature. I'm sure in a few years every girl in New York will be after Tony!"

"Let's hope not!" Meg sighed, "Christine, this family is by far weirder than you could ever imagine. And I do not mean Erik's deformity with that!"

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _I won't be able to update twice a week for a longer time, but I will keep this going, I promise!_

 _Many thanks to Shadowcrest Nightingale for beta-reading this. You are being very helpful! Thanks a lot!_


	88. Boys Will Be Boys

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Boys Will Be Boys**

While Christine and Meg had a pleasant day, Erik woke to find that Tony was not there to annoy him with questions. This troubled him greatly, as much as it annoyed him every other day. So he went to ask the maid who told him that Tony left to play with Gustave. "And who is on guard duty today?" Erik asked annoyed. Of course his precious child would never be allowed to go about without a bodyguard or two. The maid shrugged. "What? Are you telling me he is not being watched?"

Erik rushed out of the flat, yelling at someone to get him some messenger boys and the chief of security. It turned out that Erik had completely forgotten to appoint someone as Tony's bodyguard for this day and the clever child must have figured it out.

"Find my boy! **NOW**!"

Of course he himself went to see if Tony and Gustave were just playing or bothering the teacher. Unfortunately he learned from a rather sleepy Vicomte that the teacher had taken a day off to see the shark exhibition, the girls were with the governess and Gustave - well, the Vicomte had assumed that Gustave and Tony were watched by whomever Erik had ordered to watch them.

"So we both don't know where they are!" Erik snapped angrily and rushed back to his office, impatiently waiting for the messenger boys to return with the information who had seen Tony and Gustave. Raoul followed him, worried about his son.

"Maybe they are just enjoying the fun-rides again?" the Vicomte asked.

"If I know anything about my son he will know he's not watched and will be up to nothing but mischief!" Erik grumbled.

"Sounds just like my son," the Vicomte replied, "Even if I think what I consider mischief would be considered unusually good behavior from your son..."

"Very funny!" Erik snapped annoyed, but he did not take the time to consider if this was an insult or just a joke or maybe even meant that Tony was smarter than Gustave.

It took nearly an hour until all messenger boys were back from their part of the park, but this did nothing for the nerves of the worried fathers. But they knew they could do nothing for if they began running round they would only be harder to find for the messenger boys and receive valid information later, so sitting around was all they could do.

They both could not sit down, so they were pacing up and down in Erik's office as if they were two caged tigers. "Do you have a cigarette?" Erik asked. Raoul shook his head. Erik called some errand boy to bring him cigarettes and matches. Soon they were smoking the cigarettes as if they were having a match who could smoke faster and more than the other one. But this too didn't really calm their nerves.

Until one boy informed them breathlessly that Tony and Gustave had been seen leaving Phantasma in the car.

"The car?" Erik exclaimed shocked, his face as white as his mask. "The car? Why didn't anyone try to stop him? I'll have the guard's head for this!"

"I'll help you bury the corpses - but I want to find my son first!" the Vicomte agreed, all personal hatred between them suddenly put aside in this situation. They wanted nothing but have the boys back unharmed, everything else was insignificant at that time.

"To the stable - with the horses we are much faster than the car!" Erik ordered and both hurried to the stables. The Vicomte noticed that the masked man did not run as fast as he had in the Opera in Paris - he was fast for a man his age but it was obvious that for all his tricks even the Phantom could not cheat time and age.

"Are your horses faster than the car?" the Vicomte asked. He knew that cars were usually no faster than about 10-12 kilometers per hour, but he wasn't sure if Erik hadn't found a way to enhance the car.

"Cars are much slower and have a very much shorter range than any horse - even an old mare with a bad back," Erik replied a bit breathless, "I just have it to show off that I have one, if I really need to go somewhere fast I take a horse."

When they reached the stables, Erik immediately began shouting orders at the stable boys. Raoul looked around - the stable was clean and the horses in the boxes looked healthy and well-kept. There were lots of small ponies for the Princess Hall and all of them were by far too fat. "Wait a moment - before we can go anywhere we need to know where they would go!" Raoul reminded him.

"The horse-race. Tony is either here or at the racing course," Erik replied, "Without someone to keep him from playing jockey I am sure he's trying to show off to Gustave winning a horse race. He knows I forbid it, but I know he has forgotten that long ago."

The stable boys brought two saddled mares. They were mixed-breeds of quarter horses, morgans and tinker horses. At least they looked like that. The Vicomte took the one Erik pointed out for him and mounted the mare. When he was sitting comfortably in the saddle, the stable-boys adjusting the stirrups, he noticed that the masked man needed a small wooden stool to mount his horse, even if it wasn't taller than Raoul's and Erik was by far taller than the Vicomte.

"My knees are giving me trouble," Erik admitted and the Vicomte could have sworn the other man was bright red with shame. He absolutely hated to show weakness before his young handsome rival, but right now they had to find the boys and everything else was insignificant.

* * *

They reached the horse racing course both breathless and their horses sweating and dancing nervously, the animals didn't like slow walk after the long run and of course both mares could sense the stallions close by.

"You... you're riding style is... terrible!" panted the Vicomte, "You could have killed someone!"

"Whoever stands in my way is responsible for what happens," Erik snapped, "Where is my son? **Where is my son?** "

After asking some of the men working at the horse racing they learned that neither the car nor Tony had been seen there in weeks. "Not here," Erik sighed disappointed, "That is... so unlike Tony!" He was at a loss. Where could the boys have gone? Not the park, not the horse-racing - but what else might be of interest to Tony?

"Gustave wanted to see the the Statue of Liberty," Raoul told him, "Maybe they are going there?"

"How could... o no! No! These stupid kids! They are heading for the city of New York! They... they could be dead by now! Tony knows how dangerous it is everywhere outside Phantasma!"

The Vicomte thought Erik was exaggerating. Of course two boys alone were in danger - but it wouldn't kill them immediately. But he did not say anything as Erik headed back to Phantasma and there immediately summoned what in the Vicomte's eyes was a small army. Well, it was not. It was just some of Erik's security guards plus the doctor and Squelch and Attamamma. The black strongwoman made Raoul shudder. In some ways he found she looked much more frightening than Erik. A woman should not be that tall and not have that large muscles.

Accompanied by ten guards they headed for New York. Of course there were many roads, but somehow Erik decided that Tony could take only one - the largest one, the easiest to drive. Raoul silently prayed Erik was right.

They passed some inns and on the streets were many people who jumped aside, rather jumping head first into the mud than risking to be run down by the men on the horses - the group didn't look like they would care if anyone got trampled down. "God, I hate the drinking mile coming closer and closer!" Erik spat, "Coney Island should be for family entertainment - not some drunks drinking and gambling away what little they have!"

Raoul briefly wondered if Erik was saying this out of any sense of moralty - or because he was worried about Tony. The Vicomte never had any illusions that Erik would care for Gustave in any way.

They soon found the car - it was standing beside the street. Erik jumped down from his horse. "Tony! Tony! Where are you?" he cried out, his voice as powerful as ever. That did get him the attention of people on the street and in some inn nearby.

He rushed to the car that had some scratches and bumps in the shiny black car paint and tried to turn on the engine. "We are lucky - the boys forgot to recharge the batteries - they are empty and the car broke down. I wonder how Tony could see anything sitting on the driver's chair! He must have been driving blindly!"

"Do you think they are... hurt?" Raoul asked worriedly.

"Not by anything that was hit by this car," Erik informed him, "the damage is by far not enough that they would have felt it inside. And they took the keys with them. I wonder where they are going - usually Tony would head back to the park and ask for help..."

"We could ask if someone in the inn knew where they are?" Raoul suggested.

Erik headed to the inn, knowing someone of his employees would take the reins of his horse and make sure the animal wouldn't run away. He returned soon with the very unsettling news that the two boys had been taken into custody by the police - after they had hit a carriage and hurt two walkers. And one of the boys had even tried to fight the policemen, taking down one man like magic before he was overpowered and shackled.

"Like father, like son," the word's slipped from the Vicomte's lips. He knew it could only be Tony wielding the Punjap lasso. But the policeman must be alive or no one would speak about that in such an amused manner.

"Funny. We need to get to the police station and get them!" Erik exclaimed and tried to mount his horse. He tried it twice, then gave up and nodded to Squelch who got off his horse and helped his master into the saddle. The Vicomte knew that Erik was ashamed of showing this weakness, it was obvious from the masked man's expression.

* * *

The policemen jumped to their feet as they saw a group of heavily armed men more or less storming the police office - led by Mr. Y who was notorious for his bad temper and of course everyone assumed he was the new crime lord on Coney Island after he had taken down the other one. Erik was not, but he did nothing to fight the rumors for he cherished his bad reputation, it made bargaining with others far easier.

"Where is my son?" The policemen flinched at the thundering voice of Mr. Y - as did Raoul who remembered all too well the voice of the Phantom.

It was almost laughable how the four policemen ducked down and rushed to fetch the boys. As soon as they came into the room, their fathers reacted exactly the same way: both rushed to briefly embrace their child in relief to find the kid unharmed - at the same time berating him for the behavior, for running away, for taking the car without permission.

The policemen relaxed. So this was not some attack on them or attempt to frighten them to look the other way when the next coup was staged - it was just two fathers worried about their sons.

"A word with you, Mr. Y!" One of the policemen finally decided that he would risk this to save his face.

"Yes?"

"Your son, Antoine Y, he was driving the car that collided with a cart. Three men were hurt in the accident, thank heavens not badly. But when we wanted to arrest him, he knocked out a policeman and hurt two others with a sword. He was out of his shackles within five minutes and we had trouble keeping him locked up - he picked the lock withing two minutes and we still wonder where he is hiding the picklock. Your son may be a minor, you know that you are accountable for what he did, do you?"

"My son is a stage-magician, what did you expect?" Erik replied calmly, "That he would forget all his tricks as soon as he left the stage?"

"If he was my son, I'g give him a beating he won't forget for the rest of his life," the policeman informed him sternly, "That boy is on the wrong path and if you do not correct this once and for all I am afraid we will have to deal with your boy regularly - and he will end up behind bars."

Erik kept his head up and his shoulders squared. "I do not need anyone's advice how to educate my son," he stated icily, "Now, if you know what's good for you, you will not waste your time writing reports because nothing worth reporting happened really. My son took my car. I will punish him for that accordingly."

"What of the three people who were hurt in the accident and the policemen he hurt?"

Erik barked a laugh that made the policeman shudder. "Are you really telling me that several policemen will stand before a court and testify that they were not able to deal with a boy who is just eight years old?" Mr. Y's voice was dripping with acidic sarkasm. "I guess I will have to hire more guards if men like this are here to protect the honest people of New York from criminal scum." He pointed to Tony who stood with his head down, knowing he had crossed his father and he would face severe punishment. Tony was small and scrawny for a boy his age - he would even have been small for a girl his age, he had inherited his mother's looks and height, he would never grow tall. Right now he really looked as if he was absolutely unable to endanger anyone - especially a grown-up policeman. Erik was just glad Tony had not been able to go through with the fight - a dead policeman would mean the boy would risk capital punishment despite his young age. But obviously Tony had an intact conscience that allowed him to hurt people but not kill.

The policeman thought about that. If they admitted how much trouble such a small boy was they risked their jobs because they would be considered unfit for duty. "Just take the spoiled brat and make sure he won't be trouble again." He turned to his colleagues. "If that kid is such a troublemaker before he's ten, I bet he'll be hanged before he's fourteen."

Erik ignored that remark. He slapped Tony hard, so hard, the child fell to the floor but did not faint. Erik grabbed him roughly by the collar and dragged him out.

Raoul turned to Gustave. "In the hotel you get your punishment - and I swear you won't be able to sit for at least one month!"

"But it was his idea..." Gustave defended himself.

"That is absolutely no excuse! Absolutely none! You have your own head and make your own decisions - you will face your punishment!" The Vicomte grabbed his son's arm and pushed him outside, where he found Erik already on the back of his horse, Tony sitting before him in the saddle, crying. Raoul mounted his horse, but when Gustave held out his hand to be lifted onto the animal's back the Vicomte shot him an angry glance. "No. You will walk home. You do not deserve a ride."

Raoul looked to Erik, who just nodded in agreement, but held Tony in a firm grip, he wouldn't let go of the child.

* * *

They reached Phantasma some time later, the ride had been very slow with Gustave having to walk the entire time, no matter how much he begged his father to be allowed to ride, his feet hurt so much.

"Daddy..." Tony asked, still crying, "You won't put down Chocolate for this?"

Erik sighed. "No, I won't punish him. You did wrong and I will punish **you,** you will bear my punishment like a man." He did not tell his child that he had absolutely no idea what to do - but he knew perfectly well that threats worked much better if he didn't tell what he was going to do because then the other one would go nearly mad with fear thinking of horrible things that might happen to them.

When they entered the park, Erik saw a man standing there, waiting for him. Jonathan de Mer, chief prosecutor.

Erik didn't even look at him, instead he fixed his gaze firmly at the horizon. "Not one word, Jonathan. Not now!" He said.

De Mer nodded. He had lived on Coney Island with Mr. Erik Y long enough to know that man was close to breaking down mentally. It would help no one if he pushed him over that treshold. It would be better to give him the time to compose himself again and calm down before confronting him with the fact that he broke the house-arrest and will have to serve a prison sentence now. No one knew what Mr. Y would do then - run amok? He would stay in Phantasma and wait for a better moment now.

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 _I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I appreciate if you still follow my story._

 _Please review!_


	89. From One Man to Another

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **From One Man to Another**

Raoul took Gustave to the suite in the hotel and, after checking they were indeed alone, pushed him down on a chair. Then he put down a book before the boy and a pile of papers. "Here. You will copy this book. For a start, while I think about proper punishment." Then he turned round and left to get a drink. He just needed a drink now to calm his nerves.

Gustave stared at the book. It was huge, he doubted he would be able to copy it before he was a grandfather! The title read: "Les Miserables".

* * *

Erik took Tony to their penthouse. He took Tony to the musik room and sank down at the piano stool, leaning one arm against the piano. He looked at Tony who stood there, staring at his shoes. The child's cheek was reddened and already swelling. Erik knew he had punched him badly.

"Tony, why did you leave Phantasma?" Erik asked, "You know how dangerous this is! You could have been kidnapped, murdered, tortured... do you have any idea what people do to kids? Do you know how many bad men are out there waiting for a rich child as easy prey? How many men hate me and would love to blackmail me kidnapping you?"

"But daddy... all other children can go wherever they want..."

"You are **not** like other children! You are my son, Tony, and if other people do not care about millions of vicious murderers just waiting for the next prey I won't be that careless! You... you... Tony, you could have died!" Erik's outburst frightened Tony more than any punishment could have done. He had seen his father in this panicked state before - after the horse-race.

"I am sorry, daddy..."

"Do not call me daddy!" Erik roared, banging his fist on the piano so hard the skin on his knuckles broke and he lost a few drops of blood without feeling anything. "From now on you call me 'sir' until you earned my trust again!"

"Yes, sir." Tony said, struggling to keep a straight face despite the tears running from his eyes and his nose was running.

"Here..." Erik handed him a handkerchief "Blow your nose and sit on the couch."

Tony did as Erik ordered. A long silence followed and Ton saw the anger drain from his father as Erik took off his mask to wipe his face. Erik was crying. "O Tony... Tony... What can I do?" Erik whispered helplessly, "What can I do to educate you so you won't repeat my mistakes? So you won't end up as a criminal running from the law? God, Tony, I... I have absolutely no idea what to do."

"But... I didn't do anything wrong..." Tony clearly did not understand why his father was so sad now.

Erik buried his face in his hands. "That is precisely the problem! You were absolutely careless and risked your life and Gustave's. And you caused and accident and nearly killed a policeman with the lasso and hurt two others with that sword. Do you know that this could bring you into jail for years?"

"But... I didn't... they wanted to kidnap me... I was just defending myself!"

"They were policemen doing their job! Tony! Can't you..." He sighed. No, Tony didn't know much about the life outside the park. Tony's view of society and people and the world itself was twisted, very twisted, and the only one to blame was Erik. Erik knew that and it pained him so much, he could not stop his tears. "I failed you, my boy, I failed completely," he whispered, crying.

Tony sat there, seeing his father cry and he had absolutely no idea what to say or to do. It hurt so much to see his proud and strong father crying helplessly. "I am sorry, daddy, sir!"

Erik opened his arms, beckoning his child to come to him so he could hug him. It felt good to hold his son. "My beloved child," Erik began, "I am so sorry. I failed as your father. But I swear to you I will try to educate you - I swear I will find someone to help you!" He had no illusions of doing this himself. He knew he could not be the father Tony needed, he could not educate him to become an honest and respected member of society because he himself had no idea how to be that. But he knew he had to do something or Tony would end up as a criminal on the run.

* * *

The Vicomte was sitting at the bar, staring at his empty glass, wondering if he wanted a second drink or not. He didn't want to think now, could not think. He wanted to stop feeling that terrible pain in his chest, that fear, the pressure, he wanted to stop thinking of the dark future that appeared darker with each passing moment and feel the pain of being utterly helpless to protect his family.

A slight movement at his side made him look up. It was Erik, wearing his mask and wig again, but he too was still in the dusty clothes he had worn during the ride. They both were smelling of cold smoke, sweat and horses.

Erik turned to look at the barman. "A brandy," he ordered.

The barman paled and his eyes widened in something that looked very much like fear. "But... but, sir, with all due respect... you ordered us..."

"Not for me - for him! I'll have... a cup of tea," Erik explained with an angry glare. Well, he would have loved a drink but knew he mustn't and in some way was relieved that this loyal barman followed his orders. The barman placed a glass of brandy before the Vicomte and went to the kitchen to fetch hot water for the tea.

The Vicomte looked up in confusion. That was weird.

"I don't drink," Erik explaind, "As a father and master I have to be a role-model."

Raoul laughed bitterly. "As a Vicomte I should be too - but I am not."

"Neither am I," Erik sighed and took a seat next to the Vicomte. Both men stared at the bottles on the shelves behind the bar in silence for a while. Then Erik pointed to the brandy standing before the Vicomte. "Don't you want it?"

"Christine would be angry with me," Raoul explained.

"Why would she? Unless... unless you had too much to drink in the last months..."

"How would you know?"

"I, too, am a married man!" Erik sighed, "And maybe I am the last man on earth who ought to give you advise, but... put down the bottle. It does not help with your problems, it is another problem." He pointed to the glass.

The Vicomte understood. He understood much more than Erik had said and was touched that his former enemy confessed to him that he was a reformed alcoholic. "I... I think I'd prefer a cup of coffee," the Vicomte told the barman and watched as the barman took away the glass to replace it with a cup.

Another long silence followed this. Then the Vicomte looked up to Erik, who was sipping at his tea. He looked at Erik's unmasked cheek, saw the wrinkles in the other man's skin, the reddened eyes. That man was as weary as he was. "Monsieur, thank you," Raoul said.

"You're welcome."

Another long silence followed. Both men sat at the bar, staring at the mirror above the shelves with the bottles. They could see other men coming and going, women and children.

A family approached Erik, the children asking him for a magic trick and Erik went behind the bar to fetch two glasses, he turned them round and put them on the bar, telling the children to watch carefully. He snapped his fingers and under each glass appeard a cookie. The children laughed and took away the glasses and ate the magical cookies happily. A short conversation between Erik and the father of this family followed, the man thanking Erik for making his children so happy that day. Erik smiled graciously and as the family left took his place at the bar again, slumping down. He looked like he just wanted to bury his head in his arms and weep. The Vicomte was impressed by the act Erik had been able to keep up for the customers, smiling and being a cheerful entertainer.

"Let's go to a private room," Erik suggested, he didn't want more people to approach him. Unfortunately he wasn't fast enough to escape and had to entertain another family before he could join the Vicomte in the private room.

"I took the liberty of ordering more tea," the Vicomte informed him.

Erik smirked. "Any other man would get drunk now. Some might regard it as weakness that I do not drink."

"I don't," the Vicomte informed him seriously, "The mere thought of not having a drink for the rest of my life is... somehow frightening. I have to admire your resolve."

Erik had absolutely no idea what he could say now. "Does your wife know?"

"No. When did you tell your wife?"

"Touche," Erik laughed bitterly, "She found out when I... needed to be carried home regularly..."

"Did you... sometimes... just want to drown yourself?" Raoul asked, curiously, wondering why he suddenly felt like he could trust Erik. Trust Erik, Erik of all people! It was ridiculous.

The masked man sighed. "Many, many times. Sometimes I just want to lie down and die. But I know I can't - I have a family to care for."

"Same here," Raoul admitted, "I can't just die and leave them nothing but debts."

"I had help," Erik confessed, "In every possible way. It is easier if your wife knows the truth, believe me. Let me help you."

"Why would you want to help me?"

"Because... I still love Christine. I only want what's best for her. Being the widow of an impoverished Vicomte wouldn't be good for her, would it? It won't be easy but I think we can somehow solve our problems."

That moment the door opened but instead of the barman it was De Mer who entered. "Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted and took off his hat, "I guess you already had enough to calm your nerves?"

"We're busy getting drunk on tea," Erik informed him with a grin, "Unless you can turn tea into booze we are as sober as a saint."

"Jesus turned water into wine and not the other way round," De Mer allowed himself a joke, relieved that they were in a state he could talk to them rationally. "Now, what was that? Why did you break house-arrest?"

Raoul and Erik glanced at each other. It was Erik who spoke up. "Because our sons ran away, using my car. We were so worried we forgot everything else. Now, Mr. DeMer, what are we going to do now? Go to jail?"

De Mer considered this. "I understand why you did it." He sat down at their table uninvited. "But I can't overlook that you did leave Phantasma. Come on - house arrest in this park is really not harsh punishment. And you easily could have sent your security guards to look for your son - you really didn't need to go yourself!"

"But... Mr. DeMer, I am his father! Can't you understand that I was worried he might be kidnapped? I have enemies, you know!" Erik complained.

"Mr. Erik Y, as I said, you could have sent your guards," DeMer was unyielding, "So - tomorrow I will come with my men and lead you both away in chains. I will make a spectacle of that and I do expect you not to resist."

The Vicomte paled. "Is this really necessary? I won't try to run, won't resist - is it really necessary that we are led away in chains for everyone to see?" He was not sure if he could bear the shame of being arrested and shackled and forced to walk through the streets in chains.

"You broke house arrest. You leave me no choice. I arrest you and take you into custody for two days, then you can go back to Phantasma and spend the rest of your house arrest here," DeMer offered.

"I... can't..." Raoul stuttered, he could not bear that shame. He would have to commit suicide to protect his name and his family from the shame, to wipe out the disgrace.

Erik knew. He understood what troubled the Vicomte. "Mr. DeMer - let me give you the show. You can arrest me, I will resist a little bit and then allow you and your men to take me away in chains for everyone to see. But let Raoul de Chagny just accompany me as if he did that on his own free will. Let him come with us as if he was just a witness."

DeMer looked at Erik, then at Raoul, then back at Erik. The Vicomte sat there with his mouth open in astonishment. He could not believe that Erik would bear the shame alone to save him. DeMer too wondered why Mr. Y would be so selfless. "Give me a good reason why I should do this?" the prosecutor asked.

Erik struggled for an answer. It was not easy but finally he decided to tell the truth: "Because I have not much to lose - everyone knows that I am not an honorable man. No one will wonder if I am arrested and come back few days later. Mr. DeMer, everyone on Coney Island knows that I was a freak on display, everyone knows I was one of Bruno Riccy's men before I betrayed him to you, everyone knows of my excesses - I can bear the disgrace. He is a Vicomte. If he is seen being arrested he has to end his own life to eradicate the dishonor."

"Why do you care, Mr. Y?" DeMer asked. It was the first time he saw Mr. Y willing to make a great sacrifice for another person who was neither a freak nor in some way related to him. Was it possible that Mr. Erik Y was changing somehow? What caused this change? DeMer knew that the first major change appeared when Mr. Y had become a father. But now? What was that French aristocrat to him? Jonathan DeMer didn't know, but to see Mr. Y now protecting his former mortal enemy was a very good sign that he would not have to worry about Mr. Y too much in the future.

Erik looked at Raoul and smiled sadly. "He's a good boy," was all the masked man said.

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 _Thank you for reading and please review!_


	90. Prison

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Prison**

Erik took Raoul to his office and sent a messenger to fetch their wives, he really said "fetch them" as if they were some things to be fetched. They came immediately, worried if something bad had happened.

Both women had been amusing themselves in the variety, just sitting there watching some of the shows where Meg did not need to be on stage and chatting about everything a woman can possibly talk about. The two women shared everything like they had always done as best friends - their husbands would blush with shame if they knew how many details about married live best friends did share! They spent hours chattering without being aware how much time passed.

Meg and Christine were surprised to find Erik and Raoul sitting in Erik's office, both looking pale and shaken. The stench of cold smoke told them they had been smoking cigars. In short words Erik explained what had happened, including that they would have to endure arrest and some time in prison. Christine threw her arms around Raoul's neck crying and asking what she could do to save him while Meg threatened to kill Tony herself as soon as she was out of the office.

"Stop it!" Erik yelled, "Both of you! We have enough trouble without having to deal with hysterical women! We are going to be arrested tomorrow. I will make a spectacle, calling out that the prosecutor made a grave mistake and draw all attention to my person so no one will know the Vicomte too is taken into custody. And then we can only hope DeMer shows some sympathy to the reason why we broke house arrest and sends us home soon before guards or prisoners have a chance to kill us. Stop crying, you idiots! Stop! I hate it when women cry! I said stop! Do I need to beat some sense into you?"

Meg stopped crying somehow. She knew Erik might hit her, she knew he was unable to control himself now. Christine didn't. She could not and she didn't even think anyone might raise his hand against her, but at least she was crying silently now.

"We have to go through with this," Raoul said bravely, "Don't worry, we will both survive. Please, do not make this harder on us than it already is. Just... take care of the children until we come back."

"Tony has to step in for my magic show," Erik sighed, "And the rest... Well, leave it to Antoinette and Joe to deal with the rest until I am back. Leave me alone now, I have much work to do before they come for us tomorrow." He pushed Raoul and the two women out of his office and locked himself in. Erik preferred to deal with the practical problems of his temporary absence now instead of thinking about being in jail.

* * *

The next day DeMer really came with quite a large group of policeman. He knew if Erik wanted a fight the police was hopelessly outnumbered by Erik's guards who mostly didn't like the police much for most of them had a criminal record themselves or relatives in prison. The difference between a criminal gang and Erik's security enterprize was just that Erik did not openly blackmail anyone - those who didn't pay for his protection were simply overrun by criminal scum the guards drove away everywhere else until they decided that it was cheaper to pay because they couldn't afford to hire their own guards.

Sometimes DeMer wondered what happened to the criminals. Mr. Y's reputation was twisted - some saw him as a good man who protected the freaks and the crippled, who gave immigrant orphans shelter and education, who gave poor people jobs and a roof over their head. Others knew him to have a large group of armed men at his disposal who would take care of some problems and that human scum no one cared for just disappeared. They knew he was no stranger to bribery and blackmail, but no matter whom DeMer asked, everyone confirmed one thing: Mr. Erik Y had some sort of moral code he followed, even if no one could really predict what Mr. Y would do or not.

It was a quite impressive show Erik had staged. He stood there in his best suit, dressed as if he was going to the opera, but behind him were ten well-armed men on horses and ten others on foot. Even more employees stood behind them, forming a mob that could easily tear the prosecutor and his men apart. Erik did not resist. He ordered his guards to stand down for this was all a great mistake and he would be back soon. That was rather impressive for the people watching - Erik stood like a military leader facing a ridiculously small group of attackers and stood down with a great gesture. DeMer knew that if Erik had ordered them to attack, they would have - and the police would have run away. Erik's guards were by far better paid than any policeman. They all had gotten personal favors from Erik who knew about their dirty secrets. Sometimes the prosecutor wondered if Erik kept an archive full of dossiers about almost everyone in New York. Well, Erik didn't. He didn't have time. And he did not buy the loyalty of his guards with blackmail - he bought it by giving them decent jobs, flats and school for their children knowing how important the well-being of a child was to the father. He even gave them a guarantee that their families would have a roof over their head and at least two decent meals a day if anyone should have to run from the law or serve a prison sentence - and the children would either go to school or get a job. Of course this wasn't selfless - with this measure Erik ensured that his guards would keep his secrets.

DeMer was deep in thought about Mr. Erik Y as he saw the policemen handcuff Erik. It was almost laughable how many of Mr. Y's customers now came to watch - and his employees and even some of the other businessmen from Coney Island. The policemen felt uncomfortable, knowing that if Mr. Y said one word the mob would turn against them. But Erik was highly cooperative, telling again and again: "Don't worry about me! This is just a mistake and I will be back in few days! Of course I am innocent, I have absolutely no idea what this is about... No, don't even try to hinder them! Even if the prosecution makes a mistake I trust our law enforcement to find that mistake and correct it." The prosecutor rolled his eyes. Erik could easily boast that he would be back soon after he had told him that it would be only two days in jail!

DeMer knew this was mostly a show. Erik knew that the law system was corrupt, no matter how much DeMer fought against corruption. Erik even made a point of getting out of his shackles and giving the key for them back to a policeman with a grand gesture before he put on the shackles himself again. The prosecutor rolled his eyes. Trust Mr. Y to make a show of everything and charge the audience for that. DeMer wondered if some employees of Erik were already begging the paying customers for a few coins to pay a good defense lawyer. That sly devil Mr. Y was always able to make even the worst things somehow work in his favor. He wasn't far from the truth - only that not Erik himself but his mother-in-law had come up with that practical idea and yes, the show was highly profitable - tax-free profit, because it was just a gift from friends and not income.

* * *

This time Erik and Raoul would not be allowed to keep their own clothing. They were taken to the office of a doctor and ordered to strip naked - before each other and the doctor and several armed guards. "I am not wearing this mask for show," Erik tried to explain, "As you may know, I am deformed and have to..."

"Do I have to order the guards to take off your clothes?" the doctor asked, "I assure you, it would be easier for you if you complied."

It was degrading for both men, but they had no choice - now they were in a prison, several armed policeman around them and an unknown number of locked doors, walls and more guards between them and the streets. And if that wasn't bad enough: If they wanted to go home after two days they would have to cooperate. They could not run or their families would suffer from their actions. Both avoided looking at each other, trying not to stare - it was especially difficult for Raoul who wondered if Erik had more deformities than just his face, but somehow he managed.

"Monsieur Gargoyle!" one of the policemen muttered in shock as he recognized what Mr. Y hid behind his mask and under his elegant tailored suit. Erik flinched and looked up at that man, but kept silent. The policeman cast his eyes down, not wanting to be caught staring.

The doctor acted like any professional medical doctor would - he had to make sure both didn't carry a contagious disease or parasites or had any injuries that needed treatment. They didn't, both men were healthy and denied having problems with some sort of addiction.

The doctor informed the guards that Erik wasn't allowed to lift heavy loads because the pain in his knee was real - an old injury that now in his old age caused trouble.

They were given the horrible prison-uniforms. Erik was allowed to keep his mask was given a knit-cap so he could cover himself before they were led away. The guard instructed them that it was absolutely forbidden to speak to a prisoner, they were allowed to speak to a guard in case of an emergency, but they were required to keep silent for every word could be punished with corporal punishment. "I wonder what you did that you get two days solitary confinement?" the guard wondered. It was highly unusual to have a prisoner there for only two days and solitary confinement was considered a worse punishment than normal imprisonment. So if they had such a short sentence, why would they need to be kept seperated from everyone else? They couldn't know that DeMer was doing them a favor, sparing them the constant struggle with other prisoners.

They were locked up in tiny rooms that were cube-shaped with two meters length. Three sides were stone walls, one side was iron bars. The guards could watch them all the time from the guard's station not too far away. There was a wooden cot with a blanket, but no mattress. Prisoners should not rest comfortably. In the other cells were other men. "It is 16 hours of work for you," the guard informed them, "Each day. Since you can't go to the workshops, you will be sewing buttons to jackets. That is something one can do down here."

Erik had no great problems. Sewing buttons on was something he had done all his life, he just needed an oil lamp so he could see well. Raoul, who had seldom done that work, had troubles to thread the needle and had to endure the mockery of the guards who made jokes about him being supposedly some criminal because he was lazy while Erik at least showed much willingness to work because it was the only thing he could do. Erik had hoped solitary confinement would mean that he would be locked up in a prison cell and could sleep for almost twenty hours a day. He had been wrong. The New York state correctional system was based on the theory that hard work would make better men. Erik knew this was not true, at least not for him, but he knew how to play the repentent sinner in this system, trying to do as much work as possible as if he was in a silent contest with others who could do more work.

They didn't sleep much that night. The cots were hard and the guards had the lights on to observe if anyone would do anything odd. They had not had much to eat and they only had a covered bucket in the tiny cells because they would not be allowed to leave if they needed to go to the toilet. The stench of sweat und human waste was lingering the air and the silence was creepy. They knew there were some dozen men in tiny cells like theirs and no one spoke a word.

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 _to be continued..._

 _I decided to cut the chapter in two parts because it was growing too long. Next part on Friday!_


	91. Prison (cont)

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Prison (cont.)**

* * *

The next day they were woken early so they could start working before breakfast. Breakfast was just some stale bread and cold tea that didn't deserve to be called tea. Then it was back to the terribly boring work of sewing buttons on.

"Visitors!" a guard announced. It was uncommon but not impossible that someone would visit the prisoners. And the guard announced the visitors to make sure all prisoners who had to use their buckets would be properly dressed when the visitors arrived.

Erik let out a gasp of surprise when he saw who the visitors were: Antoinette Giry with Gustave and Tony, holding the children's hands in a firm grip. "Woman on the corridor!" a guard announced, alerting the prisoners that they better concentrate on their work for whoever dared to stare would be punished. Doing something worse than looking at her would be punished accordingly.

"Ma'am, you are allowed to talk to them," the guard informed Madame Giry, then turned to Erik and Raoul, who were in neighboring cells, they could not see each other. "You two - stand back from the bars. Keep your distance. Don't try to touch anyone. If you are spoken to, answer in English, politely and precise. No unnecessary prattling."

"Why did you bring them here?" Erik demanded, keeping his distance but his eyes were burning with fury. He hated that Tony saw him in this degrading situation.

"Careful," the guard warned him, "I count the leashes you'll receive." He pointed to a black board and a piece of chalk.

"Erik, I brought Tony and Gustave here so they can see what they caused. You are here because you had to go looking for them when they ran away. If you have to suffer the punishment, they can at least see what they brought upon you."

"It wasn't their fault," Raoul cut in, "And no boy that age should see a prison!"

"There are boys their age here for various crimes," a guard explained with a grin, "So I have to agree with the lady that the sooner a boy learns the consequences of crimes, the better." The guard turned to Tony and Gustave. The guard had children their age and generally liked kids - he just wanted to be nice. Gustave tried to hide behind Antoinette, Tony stood his ground. "So, lads, this fine lady took you here to show you what awaits criminals. I think this is a very good idea for it might help you to stay on the right path in your future. Look at your fathers - would you want to end up like them? Locked in a cage for twentyfour hours a day, without seeing the daylight, wearing that shameful prison uniform, working sixteen hours a day in silence for they aren't allowed to speak? See - that is the consequence of a crime. And the time they have to serve is measured out according to the weight of their crime."

"The worst is being forced to strip naked before a bunch of men," Erik warned Tony. The masked man just nodded grimly as he saw the guard take down two marks on the black board with the chalk. Of course talking was forbidden anyways and then saying something like this in front of a woman - of course they would punish him, but he had to warn Tony. Tony's eyes grew wide. He knew how much his father hated to be exposed, how he had always insisted that they would never show anyone their deformity, that they had to cover themselves always, always! He understood what his father was forced to endure and he understood that this would not have happened if he had not taken the car and left the park.

"I am sorry, daddy," Tony whispered and added a short: "Sir."

"Oh Tony!" Erik took a step forward and sank to his knees, reaching through the bars to take Tony's hand. The child freed himself from his grandmother and the two embraced each other as good as this was possible through the bars.

"Away from each other!" the guard ordered and roughly pushed Tony back. "It is not allowed." The same moment he noticed that Raoul and Gustave were whispering something in French. "I said English! God, you can't even behave for one moment! No wonder you are in solitary confinement. Visit is over - and you two! You will be punished!"

"Please don't!" Gustave begged, "Don't hurt him!"

"Take the kids out!"

* * *

Tony and Gustave were both crying and shaken as Antoinette took them to the waiting carriage with the two highly distressed mothers. Antoinette had not dared to bring two young women with her into the prison, fearing for their safety.

"It was horrible!" Gustave blurted out, "Horrible! They are kept in such small cages where they can't really turn around! They are kept like animals and live in their own filth, they are beaten for each word they say! How can someone be that cruel? Papa has done nothing wrong!"

"He's exaggerating," Antoinette tried to calm Christine who looked like she might faint any moment now, "It is not that bad. But when you come here to fetch them tomorrow, there will be blood on their shirts."

"O God, what did they do?" Meg exclaimed.

"Talk to their children. Touch them. That is forbidden for prisoners. I'm just glad they have to be there for only two days, which means they will be released tomorrow. You better be there for them, they will both be in terrible state and will need you." Antoinette was back to her old role of giving orders - and right now Meg was glad about that. She was unable to think clearly, she was too worried about Erik, knowing that after all he had been through this might be too much and he might suffer a relapse into whatever insanity might size him now.

"Tony, Gustave - you saw what happened to your fathers because of your carelessness? You disobeyed and took the car and left the park - you weren't allowed to drive and you weren't allowed to leave the park! Your fathers bear the punishment now because they had to go and get you from the police station. If you hadn't left, nothing like that would have happened. So every degradation, every pain they suffer is because of your disobedience!" Antoinette rebuked the children who were utterly silent. Especially Tony felt bad. Tony could easily deal with pain and punishment, but seeing his beloved father like that and now knowing that it was his fault was almost too much for him.

"Do you think daddy doesn't love me any more?" Tony asked desperately.

"Nonsense! Your father loves you and always will love you - but in future you better follow the rules. And what Gangle teaches you is not just worthless theory but really really important for your life for it will help you to avoid being sent to prison. It would be by far worse for you than for anyone else!" Meg didn't need to say more. Tony knew that if they ever found out he had a female body he would be treated like a woman and forced to behave like a woman - he didn't even dare to think of being forced to live like that!

Gustave was glad his mother hugged him now and held him close. "They... they will beat him just because he told me that he loves me..." he whispered, shocked at the mere thought.

"We will be there tomorrow," Christine decided, looking at Meg, "We will help them, no matter what."

"That's what a wife is for," Meg agreed.

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 _It is the worst punishment for the children to see their fathers suffer now because of their disobedience. Antoinette thinks this would be enough so they will behave in the future!_

 _Thank you for reading and please review!_


	92. Back to the Normal Chaos

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Back to the Normal Chaos**

Meg and Christine took Antoinette's advise and came to take their husbands home. They decided it would be best not to go alone but take someone with them, so they came with two of the elegant carriages Erik owned and Squelch and Irene and the giant doctor. Meg thought Erik would need some of his friends when he came out of prison to feel more comfortable. Christine didn't have that luxury, but at least she could be there. Of course on each carriage was a driver and one of the guards, as if the strongman and the doctor were not enough to protect them. Somehow Erik's paranoia had gotten the better of Meg.

They saw a bunch of men being released that day. Most of them looked terrible - thin, pale, in unfitting worn-out clothing, fear in their eyes. They had served sentences of some decades and didn't even know if anyone of their family was alive or where they might be. They had no one and no where to go now.

The two short-time-prisoners were in much better shape. Despite not being able to wash or change for two days they looked much healthier and cleaner than any other man who came out of that door. Erik put on a smile as if he was really being released because the arrest had been a mistake by the prosecution, he held his head high and his back straight. Raoul tried to do the same, but he was still shaken from the experience and could not really pretend nothing had happened.

"Don't look at them!" Erik hissed at Raoul without changing his pretense to be happy about winning in court trial.

"Why not?" Raoul asked, not understanding why he shouldn't look at these men.

"They might know who I am - and I certainly have no desire to be bothered by them begging for jobs!" Erik replied, still keeping his smile on his face as if he was just joking with Raoul now about something. Since they spoke French there was a good chance no one understood them.

"But..."

Erik glared at the younger man briefly before he put on his mask of happiness again. "I run a business, not a charity! I don't need any worn out criminals."

Raoul shook his head. "No mercy, eh? Tell me, would you hire yourself, if you had a choice?"

"Of course! I am a genius and I know that! But they... what the hell would I do with worn out scum like that? If they were horses I'd say send them to the knacker!"

The Vicomte wondered why Erik reacted like this. He had seen the old man Erik had hired to explain the shark exhibition to customers - that man really was good for nothing, but Erik obviously provided for him a flat, as much food as he wanted and even send his maid once a week to help the old couple cleaning their comfortable flat and do their laundry. The old man always praised Erik for his generousity as did some other men - why would Erik be so generous to them and now chose to ignore these other men who might be much more able to work? The Vicomte could not know about Erik's somewhat erratic mood swings that caused him sometimes to picture himself as a good man and sometimes as the most dangerous crime-lord.

* * *

As they entered the carriage with their wives, Christine gently took Raouls hand and asked him if he had suffered terribly while Meg didn't show much gentleness - she told her husband in rather harsh words that in her eyes he perfectly deserved punishment and maybe this would cure him of his immature selfish recklessness.

Both men said nothing, but both knew that their wives were happy to see them relatively unharmed.

In the small carriage Raoul took his place next to Christine, Erik sat with his back to the direction of travel next to Meg. In the second carriage that followed them were their bodyguards.

Christine was in tears as she tried to embrace her husband as much as propriety and the limited space in the carriage allowed. "My poor husband! My poor, poor husband!" she whispered.

Raoul gently pushed her away. He didn't like that she sometimes treated him the same way she treated Gustave in public. "Not now," he whispered. He absolutely hated it when she began mothering him.

Meg didn't show that much sympathy. "It is time that you come back! Two days without you - two more and we could close down Phantasma because of the chaos! We need you. First, it is..." She told him her long list of things he would have to do immediately and ignored that he rolled his eyes and groaned "O god!" several times. He had to run a business and no time for self-pity.

Both men looked at each other and suddenly smiled at each other with a symathetical smile - and broke out in laughter, making their wives wonder if they had gone mad in prison.

* * *

Both men had the very same idea when they came back to Phantasma - a hot bath was the first thing they required. But while Raoul and Christine had time to go for a walk at the beach and enjoy the wonderful weather in spring, Erik and Meg had no such luxury. They had much work to do, especially Erik would have loved to lock himself in his office but he couldn't - right now he needed to talk to so many employees asking for his orders and decisions, he barely found time to have a glass of water or take care of other natural needs. In the evening he was so worn out, Meg found him sound asleep on the couch in his office when she worried why he didn't come to have dinner with his family.

* * *

Much to the Vicomte's dismay Tony and Gustave created a new magic show - and Erik gladly wrote the music for them, helped them with the tricks - Tony told him what he wanted to do and Erik created the trick itself, the tools and whatever else they would need but allowed both boys to help him with the work. The more the Vicomte insisted that "A de Chagny does not set one foot on a vaudeville stage!" the more Erik was interested in this little show and encouraged the children to pursue the idea. The idea was "the king and his fool" with Gustave portraying the king, giving his fool tasks no one could complete and the fool, played by Tony, would solve the tasks in a magical way that would make the audience laugh. The whole show wasn't too long, it was about twenty minutes like most of Phantasma's shows.

The rehearsals had to be done secretly with Christine making sure her husband would be anywhere but the multipurpose hall in the non-public area of the park. But Gustave couldn't keep a secret and soon his sisters wanted to be in that show as well, even if they didn't know anything about dancing. They just liked the fancy costumes the dancers saw.

This was a problem, because Christine didn't want her girls wear such flimsy costumes. Meg argued that they were just small children so they could be naked and it wouldn't be a problem because they were that innocent, but in this Erik was clearly on Christine's side. "They can dance and they will get glittering dresses but they won't get anything that might have the tiniest hint of indecent cut of those costumes. And they won't wear any make-up, that's final!"

"That's final!" meant in Phantasma that they wouldn't find anyone to help them for no employee would cross Erik, either for the fear of losing the well-paid job or because they feared Erik's reputation. Despite everything people still believed that he sometimes killed someone who crossed him and his ships would dispose of the body in shark-infested areas of the ocean. No one knew for sure if these rumors were true or not, but no one wanted to test if they were...

The girls were soon satisfied as they were given colorful glittering dresses and taught some easy movements. While Meg was happy to teach the girls, her mother scoffed that these girls had absolutely no talent for dancing. Well, they didn't need to. They would just have to be on the stage and turn round and they would win the audience's heart just because they were so very cute. And completely irrelevant because they had to stay on a place on the stage that was far enough from every tool and prop so they couldn't accidentally disturb the tricks Tony was doing.

* * *

Everyone held his breath as the new show was announced, starring "Mr. Anthony Y and his friends". Raoul was mistrustful, but he had agreed to see that show with Christine, wondering why this would be any different than the other shows they had already seen in Phantasma's variety. He nearly suffered a heard-attack when he saw his son on the stage playing the clownesque role of the king and his daughters among the dancers in the roles of the honorable ladies of the king's court. Or maybe a harem or mistresses or whatever.

Raoul glanced at Christine who watched their children with proud fascination, her eyes wide with happiness like that of a child's for the first time seeing a Christmas tree. His first urge was to stop the show and take his family away from America right now, but then he realized that making a scandal would damage his reputation much more than if he did nothing. It was unlikely that anyone would find out who these children were. But he could not bear seeing his wife's expression. Christine was so very proud of their children, how she loved to see them on the stage of a mediocre variety in Coney Island, he could endure it no longer. He got up and turned to leave.

"Raoul..." Christine tried to hold him back.

"No. I'm leaving before I say something we might regret in the future." Christine knew better than to stop him now.

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 _Thank you for reading. I am sorry I kept you waiting so Long. My beloved pug died at the beginning of November and that reduced my creativity to almost none. I hope it will get better in the future and I am already working on the next chapter so it should be up at the beginning of January at the latest._

 _Please Review._


	93. How to Grow a Plant

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **How to Grow a Plant**

The Vicomte didn't really know where to go now. He did not want to go to a bar and get drunk - he considered it, but decided against it. It wouldn't help. It would not change anything, all his problems would still be there when he would wake up again. He could not leave Phantasma, he was under some weird sort of house-arrest. At least at that time in spring there were not many people at the beach so he walked the beach up and down, from the bar and the public area to the remote area where only storehouses and stables were and back again. He stopped at the pier and stared at the ocean.

The Vicomte had no idea how long he had been standing there, thinking about his life and coming to absolutely no idea how to go on in the future, when he heard footsteps and saw the glow of a lantern coming closer to him. He didn't even turn round, he was convinced that it was the Phantom sneaking up on him.

"Are you satisfied now? This is the first day in my life I wanted to tell Christine that I regret marrying a singer," he said, not turning around, still facing the sea.

"It's me, Meg," came the answer.

Raoul turned round and shifted uncomfortably. "I am sorry, Madame, I didn't know..."

Meg nodded. "You expected my husband, the great Mr. Y who is lording over everything." She sounded bitter. "I know. Everything is just about him. No, it is just Little Meg who is so easily overlooked and forgotten."

"It is growing cold," Raoul said, noticing she still wore some costume that didn't shield her from the coldness of the night.

"Do you want some tea? Coffee?" Meg pointed to the 24-hours-bar. "We have private rooms there, if you don't want to sit at the bar with other customers."

* * *

Erik and Christine stood in the large parlor of the Penthouse. The black maid had done her best to prepare a worthy after-show-party for the children with lots of food and drinks - of course without any alcohol. There were some of Erik's most trusted friends as well.

The He-She was busy showing the girls his skills with make-up and sketching dresses for them. The girls just loved his designs. Tony and Gustave were recapitulating the show to Giant Joe for the tenth time and the tall man listend patiently as if he was hearing it for the first time and hadn't been there to see it. The girls were still a bit scared of Irene because they had never seen a woman so small, but they easily accepted the strongwoman Attamamma who was having a discussion with Squelch if they wanted a show with the two of them or not.

Gustave stopped talking as he saw Vincent taking a plate and food with his right foot, standing on his left. Then Vincent hobbled to a chair on his left food without dropping anything from his plate. It was still weird for Gustave to see Vincent eat with his feet.

"They are so talented!" Christine beamed with pride as Erik handed her a glass of orange juice.

"Yes, they are. Small wonder, they inherited it from their mother!"

They stood side by side watching the children as they began discussing how to improve the show. This meant, Tony took the lead and Gustave's main job was to tell his sisters to shut up and Tony not to let his fantasy run too wild.

"We could have this all the time, you know," Erik told her, "You can stay as long as you want to."

Christine stared at him bewildered. Not again! Not this again! She had hoped he was over his futile hope to win her as his wife. "A word with you, in private, please." she asked in a tone she usually used to warn Raoul that he better did as she told him or he would regret it for months. Erik reacted like a dog to a direct command, taking her to the music room.

* * *

Raoul and Meg sat in a small private room. Raoul immediately noticed that the dim light was to conceal the shabby furniture, but it could not conceal the stench of cold smoke. Meg didn't even notice that, she was too used to it. A waiter brought them two large cups of coffee.

"Erik would love to marry Christine," Meg told Raoul, "I'm afraid he's still not overcome his obsession, even if it is mild now as he is growing old."

"He can't. He's married and Christine is."

Meg laughed bitterly. "And you think that would stop him? He could get rid of us easily and no one would ever find our bodies. They say he uses his ships to feed unfortunate people who are in his way to sharks. Don't ask me if this is true, but even I don't want to find out."

"You think he'd even murder the mother of his own son?" Raoul asked horrified. This was certainly not the Erik he had come to know in the past days.

Meg smiled. "I don't know. But I did not come here to discuss my husband's affairs. I came here to talk to you about your marriage to Christine. I am her oldest and best friend, we... talked a bit. And since she is by far too gentle and a too good wife to tell you herself, it takes a shrew like me to do that for her."

Raoul flinched. "What did she tell you?" He did not like the thought that Christine had been discussing his shortcomings as a husband with Meg - Mrs Y!

"Enough," Meg sighed, "She suffers greatly under your insistance on keeping the facade and sticking to a code of aristocracy. She feels like you resent her for not being from a noble family."

"But that is not true!" the Vicomte defended himself, "I certainly do not resent her heritage. I love her! I really do! I just... have to act in a certain way. I am a Vicomte. I can't be like a common laborer."

Meg grinned. "In keeping up a facade you are as stubborn as Erik is. Neither one is able to admit weakness and both of you have a tendency to rather take drugs or get drunk instead of asking for help."

Raoul blushed with embarrassment and anger. "She... complained about that? About me having a glass of wine in the evening?"

"She didn't complain. She just told me. She knows that you are in trouble, she knows about the financial loss and that you came here because you need the money back you lend Erik. She knows much more than she lets on, she just didn't want to ask you for she didn't want to force you to talk to her, she's waiting for you to open up to her and trust her. But if I know anything about men I know you won't tell her anything. In that you and Erik are much alike - instead of opening your mouth and telling what's troubling you, you try to drown your sorrow in alcohol and think we women would be blind, deaf and stupid so we wouldn't know what's going on."

* * *

Erik had barely closed the door behind them when Christine rounded on him furiously. "What was that? Monsieur, I really thought after all you've been through you'd know better!"

"Know better than what?" Erik asked, completely taken aback by her anger. He had not thought her capable of such fury and fighting spirit.

"After all Meg did to you, how can you humiliate her like this? How can you still pursue me?"

"I am not..."

She snorted in unladylike disgust. "Don't take me for a fool, Monsieur! You, Monsieur, still hope to keep me at your side, as your wife, mistress or employee or whatever. And I tell you I won't! I won't! Meg is your wife and after all she did for you she deserves better! You ought to kiss her feet and worship the ground she's walking and you... you take her for granted and treat her like a piece of furniture!"

"That is not true, I..."

"Stop that! Meg told me enough! Did you plan that all along? When you kidnapped me and tried to force me to stay with you for the rest of my life, did you already plan to drag me behind you fleeing from the law?"

"What... did Meg tell you?" Erik was absolutely sure he wouldn't like it.

"No details. Just that you build your business empire on fraud, robbery and murder. Murder, Erik! And she did not tell anyone. Do you think I would have endured your excesses as patiently as she did? Do you think I would have protected you? Certainly not, Monsieur! I would have run to the authorities and told them everything! You ought to stand trial and accept the punishment for your crimes!"

Erik had to sit down, he suddenly felt lightheaded and wasn't sure if he was going to faint. "So... you want to see me hanged? Do you really hate me that much?"

Christine sighed and backed away, sitting down on the couch. She smiled as she saw a spot on the couch which she immediately recognized as a spot of chocolate. Being a mother she knew how a cup of hot chocolate spilled over a couch looked like. Her anger was drained away, she never could be angry with anyone for more than some moments. "No. I do not hate you. I never did. It is just... I am trying to tell you that I could never love you as Meg does. She loves you so much despite all your flaws - and you are the man with the most flaws I ever met and I am certainly not referring to your face - I cannot understand how she is capable of such love. And you - you take that for granted and treat her absolutely horrible, mostly ignoring her!"

"She complained a lot, didn't she?" Erik stared at the carpet, irritated and embarrassed to learn how much Meg must have told Christine. He could only hope she had not informed her best friend about the details of his excesses.

Christine shook her head. "No, she did not. She just told me how happy she is for you improved greatly because you want to be a good father to Tony."

"Improved?" Erik stared at her, not understanding what she was talking about.

"She loves you, Erik. Please open your eyes and see her as the wonderful woman she is. She deserves so much better from you. You should treat her better."

"She's becoming the same bossy misantropic old hag like her mother!" Erik complained.

"Without that misantropic bossy old hag you'd be dead by now!" Christine yelled at him, suddenly extremely angry at his selfishness, "Are you really such a blind, stubborn, self-centered idiot that you do not see what Meg and Antoinette did for you? How much they suffered just to safe your worthless head? You... you think the world owes you because you were born with that face and this face gives you the right to treat everyone like dirt? Let me tell you something: It does not!" She jumped to her feet and before he could react she snatched his mask away, the wig falling to the floor in the movement. Christine did not scream. She just looked at his face. His face looked much better than she remembered it - the deformity was still there but the angry red was gone. It was healthy, if a bit wrinkled, skin that covered the unusual bulges in his face. "You look... better..." she gasped in surprise.

* * *

Raoul looked at Meg, trying to find out what she expected him to answer. He decided the truth would be best. "I am trying to **protect** my wife and my children. It is enough that I have to bear the burden. Women aren't strong enough..."

"The hell we are!" Meg banged her fist at the table, making him jump, "What do you know about women? Have you given birth to your children or has she? She endured the excrutiating pain five times - a pain that would make you faint had you been there to witness it. And you think men are better in enduring strain than women? Try to get pregnant, carry a baby in your body for nine months, being sick each morning, endure the pain of giving birth and then we talk about who is the weaker sex!"

Raoul was silent for a rather long time, thinking about her words. "But women aren't so good in business..."

Meg sneered at him. "O really? My husband is running a shipping company. Do you know what he knows of ships? Absolutely nothing! He has a female assistant who is the real manager of that company. He just knows how to steal half a company from an unfortunate gambler."

"But he runs Phantasma?" Raoul asked, wondering if he had overestimated his former rival.

"Not alone. He is the mastermind behind Phantasma and his own best show-act and mascot. But without his team he couldn't do it. And yes, his concert-master is a black woman. My mother is still ballet mistress and the He-She is costume designer. I'm not sure if the He-She was a good example now..." She had to chuckle at her lapse. Since the He-She mostly wore dresses she considered him/her more woman than man, but she couldn't be sure.

Raoul had to smile at that. "And what do you think I should do now? Train Christine how to run a dockyard?"

"No. Trust her. No secrets. Tell her the truth and rely on her to support you. You will soon discover that this will improve your relationship. Nothing binds together like overcoming great obstacles together."

* * *

Erik stared at Christine. He could not believe what she told him. "Are you mocking me?"

"Certainly not," she told him and handed his mask back, "I meant what I said. Is this another of Meg's achivements?"

"How do you know?"

Christine smiled as she watched him putting mask and wig back on. "Because I am a wife and mother. And right now I think you are treating my best friend poorly. Love is like a flower, if you do not give it enough water and sunshine and soil it will wither and die."

"What do you want?" He didn't want to promise anything.

"Water the flower. She deserves and needs it."

Erik gave her a stare that told her he had absolutely no idea what she was asking of him. He just didn't know what to do.

"Try to be a husband worthy of may best friend Meg. Think of your history together and make a list what she did for you, where she helped and supported you, loved you no matter what you did, and then try to be worthy of that wonderful woman."

Erik nodded. "I promise." He wondered if writing such a list would change anything between him and his wife, but if Christine thought this would be a good thing to do, why not? Writing a list was no great sacrifice.

"That is all the water you need to make your love bloom again, I'm sure." Christine gave him a knowing smile that told him that she had such a list stored somewhere to read it whenever she felt she needed to remind herself that she loved her husband.

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 _Thank you for reading and please review!_

 _Happy NEW YEAR to everyone!_


	94. Farewell

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Farewell**

Raoul was as happy as Erik when the "house arrest" was over and the de Chagny family could take the next ship back to France. Meg and Christine weren't so happy, they promised to write and keep in contact and Meg told Christine again and again that they just had to come to New York again they would always have a hotel suite ready for them. When Christine offered the same inivtation, Meg had to decline - Erik was still a wanted man in France and she was sure that she and her mother were still considered his accomplices. They would never set a foot on French soil again.

Tony and Gustave did not want to leave each other. While the girls took it rather well, they missed their home in France, Gustave and Tony held onto each other for dear life and cried and yelled and protested that one might think their parents were killing them.

"Gustave, let go of Tony!" Raoul commanded and Christine tried to tell her son that they would come back to Coney Island as soon as possible.

"No! I stay here with Tony!" Gustave cried.

"Tony! Let go of Gustave or I'll put you in a pink dress and send you to a resident school for girls!" Erik threatened.

"Gustave! Tony! Now that your fathers are business associates they just have to meet regularly. And of course you can write as many letters as you like," Meg tried another approach. Erik and Raoul made very sour faces. They did not like that they were business partners now, but they could not change that.

"No! Why can't we just stay together?" Tony protested, "Why can't they stay here?"

"Because Raoul de Chagny has to run his business in France, manage the property and the dockyard," Meg explained.

"Then we move to France!" Tony demanded.

"We can't. Tony, I already told you that I committed crimes in France and am still a wanted man there. They would size me and behead me on th Guillotine for my crimes," Erik informed his son calmly, surprising the de Chagnys with his statement which was entirely true.

But no reasoning helped. In the end Erik and Raoul had to use physical strength to force the two children to let go of each other. And even then Gustave tried to run and only his father's firm grip on his arm prevented the boy from running away so they would miss their ship.

* * *

Unlike the children the adults were very happy that they could go back to their normal lifes now. But something had changed - Christine soon learned that Raoul was trying to open up and tell her about his worries. Not that he could bring himself to do so easily, but at least he tried. And Meg sometimes felt her husband's eyes on her and did not know what to make of it. He didn't just overlook her, he sometimes seemed to study her, deep in thought. She rather liked that.

* * *

It was a hot summer day. Erik just came from one of his magic shows - it was summer, height of holiday season and he just had to let the customers see him - when his son came to him in tears. "Come with me, daddy, Uncle Shark is sick!" the child exclaimed in panic.

"Meg, get the doctor!" Erik told his wife and followed his son to the flat where the old man lived.

He found the old man sitting in his favorite chair, looking out of the window. His wife was at his side.

"Tony said you are ill?" Erik asked worriedly.

"I am not ill, I am just old," the old man told him with a smile, "There is no cure for that."

"But you were ill?" Tony asked, trembling.

"O Tony, you are such a good boy. Just like your father. No, my child, I am not ill. He reached for his pocket watch. It was a silver watch with a shark engraved. "Tony, I want you to have this."

"But... your watch! You never go anywhere without your watch!" Tony exclaimed.

"I won't need it," the old man said.

Erik saw his child crying and needed all strength not to cry like the boy did. He saw the old man's calm and peacful acceptance, his serenity, and knew what this meant. He had seen it before. The old man had made peace and accepted that he would die.

"Daddy brought Mama back from the dead, surely he can help you!" Tony exclaimed.

Erik knelt down on the floor so he was at the child's level. "Tony, that is not true. She never was dead. I just... lied to you so you would stop asking when she would come back."

"You... lied to me? But Daddy, you told me we don't lie to family and friends?" Tony was even crying harder.

Erik lowered his masked face and realized that he still wore the black and silver magician's costume. "I am sorry, my son. Please, let us not talk about that now. Later."

"Listen to your father," the old man told Tony, "Listen to him. He is not perfect, but he is a good man."

Erik just wanted to throw himself at the old man's feet and confess his crime, begging for forgiveness, but he knew he would only destroy the peace that man had found. It was the last chance to ask for forgiveness, but he could not hurt the dying man, could not cause more damage than he had already done. He more or less crawled to the old man, kneeling on the floor beside the chair and took the old man's hand. He did not know what to say.

"Mr. Y, you have been so good to me, but I am afraid I have to ask one last favor of you," the old man asked.

"Everything. Ask and it will be your's," Erik promised without thinking. In this situation he would have promised everything. The door opened and Meg and the tall doctor - both in their costumes - entered, but kept silent as they saw the scene before them - the old man in his chair, Erik kneeling beside him. Tony standing at his other side, resting his head at the old man's shoulder.

"My wife. She will be alone when I am no longer here..."

"I will care for her as if she was my own mother," Erik promised. It was no great sacrifice. She would stay in that flat and he would hire a maid to care for her and keep her company. It was nothing he could not afford.

"Bless you," the old man said and reached out to touch Erik's head, but the masked man gently grabbed the old man's wrist before he could do so.

"No. I do not deserve your blessing. If you want to give your blessings, give them to my son Tony. He will become a better man than I ever was."

* * *

Late that night Meg found Erik standing on the balcony, staring out at the sea. He could see the casino-ship coming back from that day's trip.

"Erik?" Meg's voice came from behind him. She stepped up behind him and embraced him, pressing her face against his back. "You did the right thing today."

He shook his head and his hands tightened at the iron railing. "I can't hurt him more than I already have. But... right now I wish I had a chance to unburden myself, to ask forgiveness, to... find that peace he has. I never thought my conscience would punish me like this. I just... want to find some relief and... don't know how. I want to get drunk, take pills, anything that would ease the pain..."

"I'm glad you didn't," Meg told him and tightened her embrace, "Erik... maybe I know something..."

"Maybe I am too old for that..."

"We could at least try?"

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 _A short chapter this time. Thank you for reading._

 _I have another fanfic running now: Reborn (can't post a link, just go to my profile and look for the fanfic "Reborn")_

 _I would be happy if you had a look at that one too._


	95. Atonement or Sin?

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Atonement or Sin?**

"Uncle Shark" did not live long after that. One evening his wife found him dead in his chair facing the window to watch the ocean in the east on his face a content smile. She told the maid Erik had hired to help her to call Mr. Y and inform him that her husband was dead.

He came immediately, bringing the doctor - in his costume and make-up as master of ceremony and Meg who wore just one of her flimsy dresses. They didn't care about people staring. It wasn't too unusual to see them running through the broad streets of Pantasma - that was as large as a small village - because of some sort of "emergency".

The doctor rushed to the old man in the chair and touched his throat, searching for some sign. Then he shook his head. The body was already cold.

Erik had to lean against the wall, he was trembling so hard despite his efforts to show no emotions. Meg put a hand on his arm, unsure if he would need the doctor in the next moments. "My heartfelt condolescenses, Madame," Erik told the widow, "If you allow me, I would love if you stayed here and allowed me to keep my promise to your husband."

The old woman stood there with a smile. "It won't be long. My duty here is done. Thank you, Mr. Y. You have been most generous and cared for us like a son." She turned round and took a small parcel from a drawer. "Here. He wanted you to have it. It is not much, just a a watch." It was his watch with engraved sharks. Meg took it from her hand since Erik was not able to let go of the wall or he might have fallen. He could not say anything.

Meg took over for him, asking if they could do anything for her. "He always wanted to be buried with dignity," the old woman said, "But I don't have the money for a proper burial."

"A church," Erik whispered, "A church. I can't give him a cathedral, but he will get a church."

"A... church?" the old woman was taken aback, "You'd... you'd build a **church** just to give him a grave?"

Meg knew that this was not entirely true - part of Erik's punishment was to build a church on Coney Island anyways. But it did not surprise her that he would give him a grave under that church so the old man would have the grave a king would have. She didn't know if she ought to be proud of Erik or if she should scold him for presenting himself as a saint again, undeserving of the praise. Erik just did what he always did - took an opportunity to take the stage and present himself in a role of his choice. For a man who boasted he wanted to be left alone and hide he was a notorious limelight hog, an incorrigible showman who just had to make a show of everything. Even of the death or a man he had wronged. But maybe this was just Erik's way of grieving?

Erik closed down the park for one day to hold the burial. He made sure a pastor was there for the old woman informed him that they were protestants - like many people in America. Unlike France, where most of the populance was Catholic, in America there were various kinds of churches, many of them Protestant. Erik didn't care much for the differences. He liked that mass was in English and not Latin so everyone understood what was spoken.

Two days later the maid found the widow dead in her bed. She was buried at the side of her husband, at the place where Erik planned to erect the church. The altar would be their tombstone.

* * *

A week later Meg found Erik in his drawing room as he was finishing his blueprints. He looked terrible, not having washed of changed his clothes the whole week, only sleeping on the couch in the drawing room when he was so tired he saw double like he was drunk and even saw things that were not even there. Since he was sober he knew that he just needed some sleep when he started to suffer mild hallucinations.

He sat there, bend over his desk, a pile of crupled paper on the floor.

Meg went to see the what he was drawing, knowing that this would be the church he planned to build. The building looked in no way like a church. "That... looks like a shoe box..." she stuttered disappointed. After all she knew about Erik's talent for design she had expected him to design a marvellous building, rivaling the greatest cathedrals in Europe - even if she knew he would just create an illusion, like everything in Phantasma. He didn't have the money to build a real cathedral, but he could build one of bricks and wood and just mask it in a marvellous way. But that was just a box.

She expected him to be furious at her disrespectful comment, but he just looked up at her wearily, his unmasked face pale, almost grey, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, well, even darker than usual. "This box creates the perfect acoustics. Here." He dug up a slightely crumpled sheet from a pile of sketches. "This will be the church. The front side will be made of glass, an entire wall made of glass. It will face the east so if you are there at sunrise you can see the sun rising over the ocean. It will be a wonderful view - the ocean and the sun being the wallpaper for the music..."

"I thought this was to be a church?" Meg asked, unsure if he was so tired - or maybe drugged - he no longer knew what he was doing.

"Yes. It is. A church. With the altar being the stage. It will be glorious."

"Erik, go to bed. You... when was the last time you ate properly or slept? Go to bed!"

"No, I need... need to..."

"Bed! You need to sleep!" Meg just took his hand and to her own surprise he followed like an obedient child and allowed her to take him to his room, sat down on his bed heavily and slipped out of his shoes. He was already asleep as she gently tugged him in like a child.

* * *

When Erik began to build his unusal church everyone wondered what he was doing. The building was at the beach of Phantasma, right at the promenade where most of the customers were in the summer. The way he build it, it looked not like any church or temple anyone had seen before, like Meg most people thought it looked like a large box from the outside in inside it looked rather like a plain theater only with benches instead of seats. But there was a gigantic stage with the glass wall and not a real altar. Since the building was so close to the ocean it didn't have a cellar, it looked like it stood on a large foundation slab. The building was mostly wood, plain wood. No decorations, nothing. Erik had dreamed of a glass wall, but this was not possible. He had to go for a wall of large windows put together because he could not get a windowpane the size of a wall of a smaller theater building.

People came to see what Mr. Y was building in his park, wondering if it would be a new theater, a fun-ride or a hotel or whatever. Erik told everyone it was going to be a church, but no one believed him. The building didn't look like any church they knew and not like a temple or whatever. It looked like the miniature version of a concert hall and it was maid of wood and glass.

"Is this really going to be a church?" DeMer asked when he visited the building site to see with his own eyes what Mr. Y was doing.

"Yes, it will be a church," Erik replied seriously. Usually when he tried to outsmart DeMer he showed a little amusement, but not this time, this time he showed nothing but serious determination. "I just bought this neighboring parcel because I want the church to be reached by everyone on Coney Island and not only by people visiting my park or working there."

"I didn't specify any kind of church this should be, but tell me, Mr. Y, aren't you Catholic? This looks... rather uncommon."

"I assure you, sir, that this will be a church that can be used by Catholics and Protestants and I even plan to talk to the Rabbi to come over at certain Saturdays and if I find an Imam I will have one here at certain Fridays," Erik informed the prosecutor.

Jonathan DeMer stared at him. "You know that a Catholic wouldn't set a foot in a Protestant church, much less a Rabbi or an Imam? This... this is impossible!"

Erik shrugged. "I don't think so. This is Coney Island, this is Phantasma, this is were people of all colors and religions live together, why shouldn't we all use the same room to pray and worship? There is only one God, isn't there? I fail to see the problem."

"You are either mad or a genius," Jonathan DeMer smiled at him. The mere concept was enough to cause a scandal, but maybe, just maybe Erik Y was right. Coney Island was an odd mixture of people from all over the world, they often shared their rooms, so why couldn't they share a room for their religious duties?

* * *

Of course every man could erect buildings on his property as he liked, but to hear that Mr. Y was building a church caused everyone to laugh. The notorious Mr. Y who was well-known for playing unfair and using illegal methods to get things done suddenly playing the reformed sinner and building a church? A church next to Phantasma, the dark area of the park being an open secret. Everyone knew about his gambling cruisade ships, the notorious variety producing a scandal each day, the brothels, the opium den and the bars. The man who earned most of his money with gambling, drugs and immoral shows - that man was suddenly playing the paragon of virtue, trying to fight against debauchery and crime.

The businessmen of Coney Island mocked him - not when he was in the room with them, but of course Erik soon heared what they talked behind his back - and laughed this off as just another promotion coup of the Master of Illusion. They were sure it was just another theater he was building for his magic shows, even if the two tombs under the stage gave it a rather dark atmosphere.

Interesting enough, the common workers on Coney Island supported his idea. If everyone had a church, why shouldn't they have one? The more the building grew the more support Erik got, even from some of the smaller businessmen. They accepted his argument that no matter where they were from or what job they had, they deserved someone to care for their souls.

That was precisely the argument Erik told various bishops of different churches and the chief rabbi. The response he got was not encouraging. They openly refused to talk to him, no one wanted to be associated with him.

Meg feared Erik would be angry, but he wasn't. He shrugged it off as if this was a situation he had anticipated anyways. "It is like the managers - I tell them what to do and they refuse. Sometimes men need to be persuaded."

"Erik!" Meg exclaimed horrified, "You wouldn't dare!"

"My dear, I can and I will. I will force them to do whatever I tell them but I don't need threats. I just need an open argument with them, that's all. If one gives in, the others will follow!"

* * *

Meg went directly to her mother and asked for her help, telling her what Erik had said. "O my," Antoinette Giry sighed and massaged her temples. Meg noticed how much grey invaded the raven black of her hair. "I hope he does not do anything foolish."

"We have to stop him," Meg pleaded with her mother, "He can't blackmail powerful men here or we risk losing everything! I have no idea what he is up to!"

"Maybe he just knows which one of the high ranking clergymen has been in the brothel recently?" Antoinette shrugged. This would make sense. Of course clergymen were just men like every other man and had certain urges. The dark area of Phantasma provided everything for them with the luxury of an entrance via the family area or the beach so one could visit without risking his reputation should someone recognize him. A day at the beach - well, why not? This was what many people did. Since Erik aimed for the luxury segment of the entertainment business his customers were used to the fine things in life and wouldn't want any whore on the streets or cheap booze. They wanted champagne and silk and velvet and a suit with their own bathroom. Antoinette knew that Erik had planned from the beginning to use the visits of some men against them eventually, was the bishop among them? She didn't know, Erik kept these secrets to himself.

* * *

It was All Saint's Day. Whatever Erik had planned, it could be nothing good, for he forbid Tony to come with them. They, mostly freaks, common workers and some of the men owning a small business between the large parks. Not one of the big players - except Erik, Phantasma was one of the biggest parks and surely the one with the most luxury and magic - and of course the one where customers were coaxed into spending as much money as they could, many of them leaving with debts.

Antoinette Giry was very angry when Erik asked her to stay at home and make sure Tony would not do someting as stupid as his father. She had been Erik's right hand woman for decades now, helping him through everything, no matter what and now he was slowly but irrevocably pushing her towards retirement and giving the position of his right hand woman to Meg. Antoinette was happy to see Meg being able to take over for her, but she herself didn't feel that old.

"You stay here and watch Tony, Meg is coming with me. Should we not return, I trust you to run Phantasma until Tony can do that alone," Erik instructed her.

"Erik, what are you up to now?" Antoinette sighed wearily. She had long ago given up to try to talk him out of something or even try to stop him.

Erik winked at Meg and grinned. "Winning. The bishop will not be able to turn me down today."

* * *

They did not go to the city by train, at least not Erik and his trusted friends, the freaks of Coney Island. They had carriages - not the car, in the cold weather the batteries of the car would never allow them to drive all the way to the noble area of New York - and were six people in each carriage. Benny's wheelchair was on the roof of the carriage he was in, to make sure he would be there. He had written the speech Erik wanted to give, just in case Erik forgot the text in his nervousness. Erik was nervous. Even if he pretended to be well, Meg had carefully taken a small bucket and a large bottle of water as well as a large towel and - just in case - a spare cloak for him.

Erik scoffed at her 'mothering' him, but it turned out that she had been right. It was just nerves, he told her as she held the bucket for him like he was a child. He was glad that except Meg only Joe, Squelch and Fleck no one was in the carriage with him and they drove with the windows shut.

"It is this whole city that is grating on my nerves," Erik complained, "This country, this city - it reduces all of us to something far beneath what we rightfully ought to be."

"That is not the speech you wanted to give, is it?" Fleck teased him.

Erik glared at her angrily. "Certainly not. But it is true! Just look at Joe - he was a medical doctor and now he's master of ceremony in a vaudeville show. Meg was to be a primaballerina in the world's largest opera house and now she's lead dancer in a questionable variety. Or myself - I build for the Shah of Persia! I ought to be a composer of glorious operas and concerts and now I am reduced to a circus director. But at least we are in good company. Lorenzo da Ponte. He was the librettist for some operas composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and what became of him in New York? A small greengrocer in the Bowery!"

"The Bowery?" Meg asked, shocked to imagine the great Lorenzo da Ponte in that rundown slum.

"The Bowery wasn't that bad back then," Dr. Gängelmann explained.

"A greengrocer!" Erik snorted, "We all fall as deep as we can here."

Squelch crossed his arms. "I don't think so. I was a cowboy, I was born in the West. Then I became a strongman and now I am head of your security enterprize. How would you say I 'fell'?"

Meg stared at Squelch in surprise. She had always thought the strongman was very strong, gentle and loyal, but he always seemed to be a bit... well, not so clever. Obviously she had been wrong. That man could argue with Erik and this in itself was evidence enough that he had to be smart.

"Doesn't count. You were born here," Erik retorted. At least he seemed to be better now. The argument helped him to calm down a bit.

"And I? I was a freak at home, I was a freak here and now I am staff manager of Phantasma," Fleck argued, "And I was born in Austria."

"Staff manager? Who appointed you staff manager and when?" Erik felt absolutely bad not knowing such basic information about his own enterprize.

"Antoinette Giry. She said we are good in playing good-cop and bad-cop. She prefers to be the bad one so I have to be the good one."

"Really? Well... then you are doing a good job because I do not even notice that there is work that has to be done..."

* * *

They met with the others - fairground workers, 'businessmen' who weren't better off than common workers, dancers, and even prostitutes, almost every profession from Coney Island had some representatives - close to the church. Meg wondered how quickly Erik changed from a nervous shaking wreck to his 'Master of Everything' persona. Erik wore his white mask, a grey top hat and a long grey cloak with silver embroidery. He even wore rings on his hand. The small silver wedding band and some fancy rings he just wore for show, most prominent a silver poison ring.

"Everyone ready?" Erik asked and the crowd nodded, "Now stand with me. We are marching in as the conquerors from the beginning, so heads up and I do not want to see the slightest indication of shame or weakness. They owe us and we will get what is rightfully ours. We are in no way beneath these fancy dressed so-called 'elite' that wouldn't survive half an hour in our shoes."

They just went to the middle of the street, blocking off all traffic, ignoring the indignant stares and whispering. They approached the main door of the church where the bishop stopped and turned to see what the commoditon before his church was. Erik climbed up the steps until he stood at the same height as the bishop.

"What is the meaning of this circus on this Holy Day?" the bishop demanded furiously.

Erik gracefully knelt down before him and took off his hat, shocking everyone of the better society who had expected a scandal and certainly not the notorious Mr. Y humbling himself.

Erik used his most angelic voice as he said: "Your Excellency" - it was the correct way to address a bishop - "We, the fairground people, came to ask you to send a Priest to Coney Island. We have build a church and want to hear mass regularly, we want someone to care for our eternal souls."

The bishop and the people in the crowd who stood aside, not wanting to come in touch with the scum from the Island, especially not with the freaks and whores, wondered what this was about now.

"How can I ask a priest to go there? Everyone knows what is going on in a certain part of your 'park'. How dare you demand that I sent a priest to that... den of vice?" A nice answer from the bishop, but an expected one.

The perfect clue for Erik's next line: "Do tell me, Your Excellency, what would Jesus himself do? He, who was accused to sit with scum and replied that the sick ones need a doctor and not the healthy ones."

The bishop stared at that man. It was unusual to have a man of rather questionable reputation quote the Holy Bible. He wondered why this man insisted that a priest would be sent to Coney Island when he could just take the train to come to the next church. But right now all eyes were on him, the bishop, and surely he could not deny a man who just wanted spiritual guidence. "I will sent one," the bishop promised and held out his hand so Erik could kiss his ring.

Erik followed the protocoll, as outfashioned and ridiculous he thought it was, because to him this was just another show. He had the bishop in checkmate and both knew it. No humble gesture could change that.

* * *

There was a small celebration in Phantasma when they returned. Many fairground people were there, many of them didn't even work for Erik, but right now they celebrated together.

"Why is it so important to have a priest here on Coney Island?" Antoinette asked, wondering since when Erik had become religious.

"If everyone gets chocolate cake, I want my piece of cake too, no matter how stuffed I am," he winked at her and Tony who grinned happily, "And now we need a Protestant Pastor and a Rabbi as well, then we get the same care as all normal people do."

"You can't ask the Protestants - everyone knows you are Catholic," Meg warned him, "It would make you untrustworthy."

"More untrustworthy than I already am?" Erik lifted one eyebrow in amusement, "Joe? It seems you will get to do my part in the next show..."

"Me? No! I am Jewish," the tall doctor refused.

"Jewish? You work on Saturdays and eat pork," Erik asked with much amusement.

"I am as Jewish as you are Catholic!"

"Touche," Erik laughed, "Let's find a Protestant. There ought to be at least one in Phantasma!"

"Sir, Protestant of duty reporting for duty, sir!" Irene Fleck cried out, saluting like a soldier. A very small soldier.

"But you are Austrian?" Joe asked.

"And? Most Austrians are Catholic, not all of them. So - do I have the job?"

With this settled they could set the plan in motion.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Thank you for reading. Sorry for the long delay, I have been terribly busy lately. Don't know when I will be able to post the next chapter, but I am working on it! Please review. I always appreciate reviews._


	96. Opening at a Church

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Opening at a Church**

Meg had not dared to hope her life would be in any way easier, not with a man like Erik at her side. As soon as the unusual church building was finished he began working out how a grand opening could be made without offending anyone of any religion. At the same time Erik surely wanted to use it to be in each and every newspaper in New York and maybe even outside.

"For Heaven's sake, Erik, it is a church and not a new fun-ride!" Antoinette berated him, "Leave it to the clerics to do something to bring in people."

"No, I build it, it is on my property and so it is my responsibility. I will find something all religions have in common!" Erik didn't even look up from the staple of books before him.

Meg sighed. "We will have to eat without him, mother. If he is like this it is best to wait for him to fall asleep eventually. Tony, come."

Tony did not even dignify that command with any reaction. Like his father he was reading books. But while Erik sat in his chair in his library, the books on a table before him, Tony was lying on his stomach, several books before him.

"Tony, time for lunch, come!" Meg commanded. Tony pretended to be deaf.

Antoinette sighed. "Like father, like child. Erik is very good in not seeing or hearing what he does not want to know, has always been."

"Tony, for the last time!" Meg almost screamed, "You will have lunch with us!"

"Only if father sits at the table," Tony replied, not even looking up from his books.

"Erik!" Meg went to her husband, knowing he was certainly not deaf, and snatched the book from his hands. This got his attention. There was something surreal in this situation as Erik - like he usually did at home - had taken off the mask and wore his glasses. In his old age he needed glasses to read, write or draw. He looked up in surprise as if he really had not heared her, at that moment looking so confused as if he had just been woken from sleep. Meg could no longer be angry, she had to laugh and offered a compromise: They could take some books with them if the came to eat with them. Well, the result of this offer was that Meg and Antoinette faced a staple of books while dinner - and Erik and Tony talked only in German, knowing the two women didn't understand that language!

Of course Erik could not keep his plans secret as soon as he finally had the main idea ready: He would have a performance of Haydn's "The Creation" because that was something all Christian churches and the Jews could agree on. Since there would be not a man of one faith to interpret the text but a chorus, the orchester, the soloists. Erik would stage the oratorio like a show and only now Meg learned from Tony that the stage in the church was like any stage in the theaters and could of course be used like one.

While Antoinette complained about the costs, Erik just ignored her. He was determined to make this work, he planned everything like this was the show of his life, there would never be a better show. It took months to plan everything - and of course the church was in use long before the official opening - but early in spring it would take place. Conveniantely just after Phantasma was open for business again.

* * *

The church was filled to the last seat despite the unusual hour. An oratorio before sunrise? This was certainly something new and most people of New York didn't like to get up that early, especially the upper class. But they wanted to know what this was about out of sheer curiosity. The announcement promised that a church for Protestants, Catholics and even Jews would be opened with the performance of Haydn's "The Creation". Maybe the only man who was not surprised was the head of prosecution, Jonathan de Mer. Trust the notorious Mr. Erik Y to make as much money as possible and present himself in the center of a show that will be the talk of the state for the rest of the season. Surely Erik hoped most upper class families who would want to attend would at the same time visit his luxury entertainment park and use the hotels, cafes, restaurants... De Mer didn't even want to think about all the men who would eventually visit the dark area of the park. He was sure M. Y found a way to draw the crowds in and wouldn't let them leave with money in their pockets.

* * *

Erik briefly thought about being part of the performance but decided against it. He did not feel up to it - as beautiful as his voice still was, he lacked the strength for such a performance, especially because he knew of his stage-fright. Instead of better it grew worse each day. It as enough that he was responsible for everything, from the hand-picked musicians and singers to the decoration and the stage effects.

The audience wondered where the orchester and chorus was. They sat in benches like one would sit in any church, facing the stage - which would be the altar, they assumed - and the wall behind that. The wall was not really a wall, it was a wall made of glass. One window on top of the other, an entire wall made of glass! But with the electric light on inside the building and the time - it was before sunrise - they could not see what was behind the glass, it seemed to be all dark. Looking around they found the gallery. There was an organ on the gallery and there were the musicians, all of them, on the galery. Even the conducter was on the gallery, at a place where everyone could see him.

Erik stood in the back, close to the door, staring at his pocket watch, silently mumbling under his breath. One could think he was praying, but in truth he muttered curses, desperately wishing for some drugs to take away the strain he could not bear. He was anxious because he had done everything he could do and now all he could do was stand there and do nothing. Really nothing. Stand there and hope his employees would do what he told them to do. No matter how harsh he had been at the rehearsals, making everyone wonder if they would face the wrath of God or of he devil if they made a mistake, both options would be better than facing their masked employer should the tiniest mistake happen!

Meg was at his side, as always. Should anything go wrong, she would be there, just to show him that she was at his side no matter what. It was all she could do and it was terrible for her to see him like this - trembling, anxious, constantly checking his watch, he was close to a fully grown panic attack and there was nothing they could do for the doctor refused to allow him to take laudanum.

The lights went out and the music began. No one could see anything, only a faintly glow from the gallery let on that there was light for the musicians and the conductor. As the music "Introduction of the Chaos" began, the eyes of everyone adjusted to the darkness enough so they could see that the window was to the ocean and they could clearly see the light before sunrise shimmering at the horizon. The audience was under the impression to be sitting right in the midst of orchester and chorus. It was an acoustic trick, the wooden plates on the ceiling and the wall heightening the acoustics to the maximum. Erik had to lean against the wall, he was shaking so much.

The glorious music of Haydn's composition rose around them as the bass singer sang the recitative of Raphael and the chorus set in in pianissimo:

" _Und der Geist Gottes_  
 _Schwebte auf der Fläche der Wasser,_  
 _Und Gott sprach: Es werde Licht!  
_ _Und es ward **Licht**._ " (" _In the spirit, God moved upon the face of the waters; and God said: Let there be light. And there was light._ ")

As the chorus went from pianissimo to forte as they sang the word "Licht" (light) the sun rose over the ocean and the first ray of the sunlight fell into the church almost blinding the audience.

Erik sank to the floor, he didn't care sitting on the floor in the back of the church. He was crying in relief. Whatever would go wrong now, no one who ever experienced the real sunrise at the same time as the music praised the holy light that drove out all evil creatures, would ever forget that. They might forget everything else in their lives, even their name, but not that they had not only heared about the Creation but felt like they had experienced it themselves. Meg had to help Erik to a chair, he needed to sit, he was obviously exhausted and now that the stress fell from him he felt weary, drained, but was crying in relief at the same time. "Thank God," he whispered. Whom else could he thank for this? A tiny cloud would have been enough to ruin everything or just one second delay in the beginning. Erik could not have any control over these things, but they happened exactly as he had envisioned them.

Giving the audience birds was much easier. He just needed some birds to appear on the stage, a simple stage trick almost every magic show had. The living birds were tied to the rod they were sitting on so they could not fly away. He had an eagle and a pair of pigeons, the other birds he had not been able to purchase or rent so the audience just saw the eagle and the pigeons, that would have to be enough. Pars pro toto.

The wale was a completely different thing. It was impossible to have a wale, but there were enough stuffed sharks and the wooden megalodon model. Now the megalodon was more or less the understudy for the wale - the wooden model had been placed on weels and was drawn on a long chain outside the church, behind the glass, close to the water level so the audience got the impression the gigantic wooden puppet was floating over the sea.

The birds disappeared through the trapdoors in the stage as the next sequence began. A lion. Well, sort of. In truth it was a beige mastiff with a special wig to make him look like a lion. A real lion would have been by far too dangerous and too difficult to handle. The same with the tiger - instead of a tiger it was a brindle colored mastiff. The two dogs - seeing their owner standing beside the stage, gesturing for them to sit - just sat down and looked around as they had done for weeks during rehearsals. There was no deer, but the horse was easy: It was just Chocolate, Erik's racehorse. The stallion was too tall to come up from under the stage, he just ran at the beach where the shark-model had been showed before. Training Chocolate was easy: On one side the stableboy would wait with the horse and wait for his clue. The music could be heard outside the church building so he knew when to release the horse. The stallion automatically galloped to Tony who waited for him with a bucket full of apples. No horse would ever withstand the temptation of so many apples! The boy could easily put a rope over the horse's neck.

They left out the cow and the worms. The cow because the bulls Erik had in mind were deemed to dangerous and the cow was simply impossible to train. The beast had proven to be immune to any attempt to teach her just to run towards Tony. And of course they skipped the worms for the good of the audience. Worms - that would be a bit too much realism in the performance of The Creation.

When Adam and Eve appeared there was a shocked gasp in the audience for Erik had decided to take the text literally and the two actors - both dancers from the vaudeville show in the dark area of the Phantasma - stood there naked. The man was of mixed heritage, his skin was too dark for a white man but not dark enough to mark him clearly as a black one. The woman was of mixed heritage too, she looked like a white woman only her almond shaped eyes and the raven black hair gave away that she had Chinese anchestors.

The musicians did not react to the murmur in the audience, they did as they had been told to: keep playing even if the church was burning down!

* * *

Erik shuddered as the stage was empty again as the chorus sang the last lines:

 _"Singt dem Herren alle Stimmen!_

 _Dankt ihm alle seine Werke!_  
 _Laßt zu Ehren seines Namens_  
 _Lob im Wettgesang erschallen!_  
 _Des Herren Ruhm, er bleibt in Ewigkeit!_  
 _Amen!"_

 _(Sing the Lord, ye voices all! Utter thanks ye all his works! Celebrate his pow'r and glory! Let his name resound on high! The Lord is great, his praise shall last for aye. Amen! Amen!)_

There was a tense silence after that. It was so very silent, even the ocean seemed to hold his breath. A silence like that had never been heard of before. It seemed an eternity until Erik finally managed to push himself to his feet. He was unsure what to do. Should he say something? This was a church and not a theater.

Someone started clapping. Erik realized that the one man who began clapping was - Jonathan de Mer. After a split-second the rest of the audience fell in. Not everyone was clapping, some were shouting that this was a scandal and Erik ought to be arrested for blasphemy.

"This is outrageous!" the Catholic priest - who had been sitting in the first row with the Rabbi and the Protestant preacher - protested, "You cannot have naked people in a church! This is blasphemy of the worst kind!"

Suddenly everyone's eyes were on Erik, who still stood at the back of the church, and no one said a word - Erik felt the terrible urge to run, he was close to panic, but only Meg realized that. To everyone else he stood perfectly calm and composed, then walked the pathway between the rows of wooden benches to the strage with measured steps, his head held high.

"Enlighten me, sir," Erik began, "I assure you I did read in the Holy Bible, I did some research. Maybe I missed something? Did God not create men and women, create them naked? Or did he create them dressed? In their innocence they were naked, not even realizing that they were, only after they tasted the forbidden fruit they realized their nakedness and began making clothing for themselves. Is this not true? Is there anything I misunderstood?"

"This does not mean you can put people on display like this was one of your sinks of iniquity! This is no lowly sideshow, this is a church!" the priest shouted, his face red with anger.

Erik shrugged. "Didn't we agree that the church should open with 'The Creation' to give the audience the feeling as if they had been there at the beginning of all time?" He said this with so much innocence that even Meg was convinced he was genuine in his naivity. It was almost funny - Erik had kept his word to the letter and now this was considered a terrible sin again. "Tell me if I missed something?"

"I think he didn't," it was the Jewish Rabbi, "He understood correctly." There was a mischievous gleam in the old Rabbi's eyes, he loved the way Mr. Y dealt with this and he loved the way Mr. Y had been able to mix a really dignified consecration with a show like the ones he usually presented in his amusement park, even including a small indicent detail, even if he did it with much innocence and earnestness.

"How can you support something like this?" the Catholic priest didn't want to give in.

"I agree with Mr. Solomon," the Protestand preacher replied, "We ought to congratulate Mr. Y to this and not accuse him. I do not think he did anything wrong, did he? Tell me, Mr. Y, how did you ensure the sun would rise at precisely the right time?"

Erik laughed a bit nervously and looked around as he saw people leaving the church, all of them discussing what they had just experienced. He would be the talk of the city for months - ensuring enough publicity for the rest of that season to draw in the crowds. "Maths and... some would say I was pushing my luck, some might say it was God who made a fine weather today. I prefer to think God himself was approving of this. Or would you argue it was just luck?"

* * *

When the church was empty, Meg found Erik sitting on the stage, his feet dangling in the air. He sat there, his back hunched, as he stared at the empty benches.

"Erik?" Meg asked, "How are you?"

"Tired," was all he said, "So very tired."

Meg had to support him as she lead him back to their flat. Erik was swaying on his feet and when he was finally in his room, he was not even able to take off his shoes. He felt like all energy was drained from his body and even lying down was too much for him now.

"I love were a flower..." Erik whispered as Meg gently arranged the pillows and covered him with a blanket, "...it would be a sensitive plant. It needs so much care."

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 _Sorry for keeping you waiting for such a long time! Thank you for reading and please leave a review!_


	97. Dangers Looming Ahead

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Dangers Looming Ahead**

Life returned to normal - as far as anything could be considered normal in Erik's self-created miniature city that was Phantasma. A small city in itself, fueled by the need of people to escape reality. It was fascinating to watch people who had tried to save the meagre salary they earned in long hours of hard labor spending said money as if they had a gold mine hidden in their flats. No one wanted reality, people wanted illusion and happy pretense and Erik gave it to them with all of his creativity. And not only Erik - Phantasma became more and more like a delicate and very sophisticated machine that worked even without its creator.

Which was good for Erik felt more than ever that he was growing old. It was the small signs that troubled him. Sometimes he did not remember a name or a word, switched to the wrong language, did not remember where he had left his pen. Meg and Tony laughed it off as him being just overworked, but Erik still felt bad about this. Why did he suffer these problems while his mother in law, who was older than him, did not? The tall doctor suggested that this was an aftereffect of drug-abuse and his terribly unhealthy lifestyle.

It seemed a day like many others when Erik's secretary came to his office to ask if the master needed something before he would go home that day as was his custom. He knocked at the door and did not get any answer. "Sir? Are you in the office?" He called out, wondering why Mr. Y had not heared him. This was rare. Usually there was an answer and he was sure Erik was in there. He tried the doorhandle and the door sprang open.

The secretary let out a horrified scream as he saw his boss lying on the floor, the eyes wide open as Mr. Y was struggling for breath. "Sir?" the secretary rushed to Mr.Y's side, trying to see what the man wanted. He noticed Erik was struggling for breath, his eyes wide in panic. The secretary helped Erik to a sitting position, holding him at the shoulders as Erik helplessly coughed up some white-yellow foam that just shot from his mouth and nose. He had no chance preserving his dignity now as he desperately struggled for each breath between the forced coughs that shook his body. He felt like his chest was on fire and the lack of oxygen caused panic. Was this the end? Erik did not want to die like this. Not on the floor choking to death on this terrible foam his lungs seemed to produce now. He could not even plead for help now.

The secretary could. He cried for help in panic, thinking his boss was dying in his hands now. He did not want to see this, did not want to be part of this. He was a secretary, nothing more.

The secretary's cries for help alerted several people who rushed to the office. Unfortunately no one of them knew what to do, they just stood there watching their boss sitting on the floor, coughing and struggling for breath, clutching his breast with one hand, the secretary holding him in the sitting position to ease his breathing. It was a horribly humiliating position for Erik to be seen like this, but he could not do anything.

Antoinette Giry pushed her way through the gawking crowd, telling them harshly to leave now and pray that no one would remember their faces or she would bury them with her own hands for this audacious behavior. Only moments later Dr. Johann Gängelmann entered the office.

"O my God, Erik!" the dictor gasped, kneeling down beside his boss and friend, "What did you take this time?"

Erik tried to tell him that he had not taken any drugs, but he could not speak. All he could do was shaking his head a bit, his eyes wide in panic.

The secretary used that moment to slip out of the office and rush to the next bar. He usually did not drink but right now he needed a drink to calm his nerves.

"What is it?" Antoinette Giry asked horrified as Erik sank to the floor without someone supporting him. The doctor pulled him up again.

It took a while, the doctor gently feeling Erik's pulse, pushing him to a position that made breathing easier, before Erik was finally able to stop coughing. He tried to say something.

"Don't speak. Just breathe. In and out, in and out, slowly, that's a good boy," Johann had the ability to calm Erik like a good rider calms a panicked horse. When the worst seemed to be over Erik was leaning against the wall, his legs sprawled in an uncomfortable position but he did not even notice that. He was sitting in his own vomit and the terrible foam he had coughed up. "Heart attack," the doctor said, "We have to take him to bed. Clean him up. And then he needs rest - quiet and rest. You have to avoid every excitement or anxiety. He has to be kept calm and comfortable all the time."

Squelch carried Erik to his flat where Meg and Tony took over taking care of him. Meg was crying, Tony, young as he was, was suddenly very calm and acted like an adult as he helped his father to his best ability.

Antoinette Giry was left to clean the office. She did not want a maid to do this, worrying about Erik's reputation. By now Coney Island was buzzing with rumors. Everyone knew about Erik's previous addiction - the masked man han never being able to hide his excesses and even openly confessed to being addicted - so of course everyone would suspect a relapse now. She wondered if this was better than the truth: Phantasma was Erik's. So much depended on Erik being alive and working, most people wanted to see him. They could not risk anyone knowing of his weakened state. Who would take over if Erik died? His heir was Tony - Tony was now ten years old. A ten years old girl posing as a boy! The scarvengers around them would rip Erik's legacy to slices before Tony would have any chance to grow up!

Under the desk she found an envelope and a paper. It was a letter and a cutting from a newspaper. The paper was strained with the terrible liquid Erik had been coughing up, so he must have suffered the heart attack when reading this letter. Antoinette Giry carefully wiped the paper with her handkerchief, trying to preserve the letters so she could read it.

The letter was very short.

" _Revenge is a dish best served ice-cold. Your obedient servant, Bruno Riccy_ "

Antoinette Giry had to sit back and concentrate on breathing to stop herself from hyperventilating. She reached out to take the newspaper article. " _The state of New York should enforce the Ugly Laws_ ". She could not read more than the headline. Small wonder Erik had suffered a heart attack receiving such a letter with that newspaper clip. Was Bruno Riccy free again? That man had gotten a prison sentence. Wasn't that a life sentence? Could he really have staged such thing from prison? Had one of Riccy's loyal men escaped? Or was Riccy just using something that would have happened anyways to scare Erik?

Unfortunately Erik was in no way able to answer any of her questions. He was in bed and hopefully alife. Antoinette Giry decided to send the messenger boys to bring the leading team together and call in all the freaks. They would understand, they might know something that had escaped her in her shock.

* * *

Two hours later they were gathered in Erik's parlor. All of them. Meg, Antoinette, Tony, Gängelmann, Fleck, Squelch, Benny and Suzie, the He-She, Attamamma, Vincent. The only one who was not there was Erik himself. Gängelmann read the letter and the newspaper article aloud so everyone would be informed.

Tony was the first one who spoke up. "Who is Bruno Riccy?"

"A crimelord your father helped bringing to justice," Meg explained, trying not to tell too much. Tony was ten, he did not need to know the details.

"More or less to take over as crimelord - only your father is much cleverer, walking the tightrope between legal and illegal in a way no one before him ever did. And the head of prosecution, Jonathan de Mer, is indebted to your father." Gängelmann did not believe in keeping that from the child.

Tony just nodded. It was nothing new to him, even if he had never known the details. But that his father was not entirely honest was something he knew.

"Can Bruno Riccy really do this?" Vincent asked, worried, "I thought he was in prison for the rest of his life?"

"I don't know. He still may have friends. A family. Maybe..." Antoinette Giry answered, she was pale and looked ike she might suffer a heart attack any moment now.

"Maybe this is just coincidence," Gängelmann said, "There is no reason to worry about what might have been. We have to find out what really happened and from there decide what to do now."

"We could ask de Mer, couldn't we?" Irene Fleck suggested, "He will easily find out what is going on?"

Meg's eyes widened. "Are you sure? He's a prosecutor. What if he is on their side and wants the ugly laws enforced in New York?"

"I'll ask him," Tony decided, "As far as I remember he was a nice man."

There was a long-reigning silence. There was a ten years old child who had never even seen a school, a girl pretending to be a boy, who suddenly stood up and talked like "his" father.

"Tony, you are too young..." Meg berated him.

"No, I think that is a good idea. De Mer is not cold-hearted enough to deny a child's request on behalf of his father. I think Tony will get information easier than anyone else. And of course he would not go alone. Squelch?" Dr. Gängelmann interrupted her with a grin.

"Yes, sir. I'll prepare the horses."

"Horses? You... don't mean to ride that long way...?" Antoinette Giry was close to a heart attack again.

"The fastest way, Ma'am. And Tony surely knows how to ride."

"Ride through New York's murderous traffic? I'd rather see him in a horse race again!" Meg screamed.

Tony grinned. "Does this mean I can participate in horse-races again and not just do training-rounds?"

Meg tried to slap her child but Tony easily evaded the slap. He had been taking fighting lessons and evading the clumsy attempt to slap him was easily done. "Mother, now that father is ill, I am the next in line. I am his heir. I will do what I have to do for now. We can sort things out when father is better."

"Tony, you are ten..."

"There are younger children having to care for a family," Tony reminded her, suddenly reminding Meg very much of Erik, "I do what needs to be done."

"Madame Y, maybe you should - for once - give Tony a chance. Squelch and I will go with him," the tall doctor assured her.

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 _Sorry for keeping you wait so long. I was very busy. Hope you are still following?_


	98. Politics

**IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER**

 **Politics**

Tony wanted to ride immediately, but Meg argued that it would do no good to ride in the night - De Mer would surely not be in his office and he would not be eager to help if they woke him up at home - if they knew where he lived.

Tony knew that Erik kept a book with adresses, so he was sure he would find De Mer. Only Meg's argument that they needed De Mer as their ally and must not annoy him by waking him in the middle of the night convinced Tony to wait until the next morning.

They went to see Erik. He was in his bed, awake and feeling slightly better. He was in a half-sitting position, leaning against a pile of pillows. The maid was sitting with him, much to his annoyance. "Can't you leave me at least some dignity?" he argued. Being in a nightshirt without his mask in his bed - he did not want anyone to see him like this.

The maid grinned as she replied: "Doctor's order. You must not be alone now. You don't think I would risk this comfortable job by allowing you to die, do you?"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Is that the respect you owe your master?"

"A good master, yes. A good master is like a son - one has to pamper him constantly," the maid replied with a wink and Meg laughed out loud. She could understand her, but told her to leave them alone for a moment. The maid obeyed with a huge grin.

Meg sat at her husband's bed. "So... how do you feel?"

"Right now? I can't wait to get back to my feet. I hate lying here having to endure being mothered by the maid."

"And get another heart attack? Forget it! You stay in bed and concentrate on recovering," Meg told him, "If you don't obey I'll have my mother mothering you and take it from me, you wouldn't want that."

"But people have to see me!" Erik argued, "I cannot stay in bed for weeks. What will they think? That I am old and weak and they can attack?" Erik complained.

Meg gave an annoyed snort. "You did not think of this when you got stinking drunk and were unable to do anything for days!"

"It is easier to admit to overidulge in alcohol and drugs for that is something every man does eventually. I can't admit any weakness."

"So... we tell everyone that you had a relapse in your drug addiction?"

"Precisely. And now... if you don't want me to have another heart-attack you let me sleep now."

* * *

The next day Tony, Squelch and Gängelmann really rode to New York, taking some guards with them. Going to the courthouse was not easy. The first problem they faced was that they were recognized and people wanted to see them. So the policemen guarding the courtroom did not want to allow them to enter.

"O please, gentlemen, I am just a ten year old boy," Tony argued, "Surely you cannot call me a threat to any man in this building?"

"He's Mr. Y's son..." one of the policemen warned his colleagues, "I've seen him win a horse-race when he was not even four." That was not true, but Tony was too pleased with his reputation to correct the mistake.

"He's a child. So... what do you want, boy?" another policeman asked.

Tony stood up straight in his elegant riding suit, holding his riding whip in his hands. The policemen did not know that he had two knives and a lasso under his jacket. The boy was armed and able to use these weapons, but he hoped this would not be necessary.

"We want to talk to Jonathan de Mer," Dr. Gängelmann told them, "He knows us."

"Why would the chief of prosecution befriend circus freaks?" another policeman cut in.

"Why don't you ask him?" Dr. Gängelmann suggested with a friendly smile. Erik would have been angry, his pride hurt, but Johann Gängelmann had chosen the life of a circus freak after he had been a physician for some years. It had been his choice and he did not feel humiliated being called that.

Some of the policemen would have loved to turn them down, but a crowd had gathered wanting to know what was going on. There were so many nosy people, the police decided it would be easier to allow them in and let de Mer decide before the crowd would grow even larger.

De Mer was surprised when his secretary announced that Mr. Tony Y wanted to see him. He did not know what had happened that would cause Mr. Y to send his child instead of taking things in his own hands. This was certainly not typical behavior of Mr. Y.

"Where is your father?" De Mer did not even bother to greet the odd trio that entered his office, Tony looking even smaller between the giant doctor and the strongman.

"Busy," Tony replied without even flinching, "There is a serious issue I have to discuss with you."

This was not the language of a child and Jonathan deMer suspected the boy to repeat phrases he overheared from his father. "And what would that be?" he asked, gesturing for the trio to take a seat. He would hear them out and then decide what to do. It had to be extremely serious, otherwise Tony Y would never have been allowed to leave Phantasma, Mr. Y was paranoid and possessive - he would not let Tony ride to New York alone, not even accompanied by bodyguards.

"Bruno Riccy has escaped," Tony stated.

"What? No... no, I don't think so... but... I will check that immediately!"

De Mer sent a messenger to the prison to ask if Bruno Riccy was still in his holding cell, in the meantime he offered Tony and his bodyguards a cup of tea. It would take hours until the messenger would be back.

* * *

"Why do you think Bruno Riccy is free again?" de Mer asked as they sat in his office and everyone had his cup of tea. De Mer noticed how much sugar Tony used. Like every child he liked it sweet.

Tony looked to Dr. Gängelmann who answered the question: "Bruno Riccy send Mr. Y a letter. The letter was just one sentence: 'Revenge is a dish best served ice-cold.' and a newspaper article about the Ugly Law. We assumed Riccy might still have friends in the politics."

De Mer folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. "I see. Well, prisoners are allowed to read newspapers and write letters. We will see soon, but I doubt Riccy has any friends left - he has no money and will die in prison. No one wants to be his friend nowadays. As to the Ugly Laws - I heared about that. They are enforced in many cities in America. This is nothing new, as is the discussion about it."

"But they are unjust!" Tony exclaimed, "They forbid people to exist!"

De Mer smiled patiently. "Young Mr. Y, let me explain this to you: There are many, many beggars in New York, trying to look as crippled as possible to get alms from hard working people. They aren't really crippled, they just pretend to be to live as parasites. The law is against them."

"Then why don't you just forbid begging?" Tony asked.

De Mer had to admit that this was a logical argument. But one he had heared before. "Because, young Mr. Y, the beggars won't admit to begging - they will claim to do some entertainment - whatever that might be - and get paid for that."

"So you just want to forbid freakshows," Dr. Gängelmann snapped sharply. Tony looked up at the tall doctor in surprise - seldom had he heard that man so angry. "The Ugly Law as it is forbids every unsightly person to allow himself or herself to be seen in public. This is a life sentence to house-arrest jor the 'crime' of being 'unsightly'. No, don't argue against that, please. I did my homework, I read something about the Ugly Law. In many cities average Chinese, Indian and black people are considered too ugly to be seen in public and have to live in slums outside the city. Every cripple or deformed person is literally walled in, even those who were maimed as soldiers fighting for your freedom. And what of those who do not have a family to support them? They can't leave their room - but how could they work, how could they go shopping? If they are not fortunate enough to be rich, how do they even use a public toilet in one of the tenement blocks? No, sir, this law is as unjust as it can be."

"A good argument, doctor. I see your point - even if Coney Island might be excluded from the Ugly Law and your boss could keep his entertainment park..."

"It would still be house arrest, no matter how large the house would be," Dr. Gängelmann stated calmly, "And think of all those poor people who do not have the means of Mr. Y. Think of all the poor men crippled in war, of all the poor men and women maimed in factory accidents, of all the poor children born with some sort of deformity - being born can't be a sin, can it?"

De Mer had enough time to think about this while they waited for the messenger to return. "If Mr. Y wants to rally against the Ugly Law, why did he not come here personally?" he asked, "Why did he send his son?"

"He is busy," Tony gave the prescripted answer.

"I don't buy that. He has never been too busy for anything." Having been undercover in Mr. Y's business for a long time the prosecutor called the bluff.

"He had an overdose," Tony repied without showing any emotions, much like he was talking about the weather, "He needs time to recover."

"I see." De Mer accepted this explanation. He knew about Mr. Y's problems and a relapse in drug addiction was not a surprise. No one of the three people sitting before him showed any signs of emotions, but then, this was to be expected, they were professional showmen, even the child, and de Mer knew he was only seeing an improvised show. They would not really let him see him what went on behind the stage.

When the messenger returned he informed them that Bruno Riccy was where he ought to be - in his prison cell.

"So... the threat is not Bruno Riccy," de Mer stated, "It is just plain politics. I am not into this, but I can introduce Mr. Y to the right men who are against the Ugly Law. He might be of great use to them. But, like always, there will be a price to pay and I do not know who will pay what to whom."

"But you will be on our side in this?" Tony asked mistrustful.

De Mer looked at Tony. Unlike other children his age Tony had already been taught to mistrust everyone except his own family and close friends. "I will introduce your father to the men who are against the Ugly Law. They will not like him, but a common goal can even make enemies unite their forces."

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 _Thank you for reading and please leave a review!_

 _I will try to update soon, but I can't promise when this will be._


	99. Fighting for the Right

**Fighting for the Right**

Travelling to New York was difficult for Erik in his state. He had not yet recovered from his heart attack and the doctor had told him that recovery would be a miracle. He had to accept that he was an old man now and needed to be careful. "Antoinette Giry is older than me," Erik complained.

"She did not have a heart attack," Dr. Gängelmann told him like one would patiently lecture a sick child, "You are lucky to be as old as you are, given your history. ou have a few years to live, if you take care of yourself, stick strickly to a healthy diet, much rest, long walks in the fresh air and avoid every excitement. In other words... you are going to die." The tall doctor grinned at his own joke.

Erik laughed it off, but he certainly was worried. All his life he had lived with the knowledge that every moment someone could kill him. But always his thoughts had been about protecting himself from other people - this was something different. No trapdoors, weapons or skills could ever protect him from the weakness of his own heart. He might die any day now, every excitement or strain could kill him.

But he could not sit back and leave his park to others - Antoinette Giry was older than him, she was growing a bit... quirky and tended to forget things. Meg was younger, stronger and took over her mother's role, leaving the stage and beginning to run the show, but she was a woman. Tony was too young, he was a smart boy but way too young to be in charge of such a large business enterprize.

Erik sat in the carriage with Tony, Squelch and Gängelmann. He needed a bodyguard now, knowing he was in no way able to fight. Right now even Tony would be able to defeat him just because the child had much more stamina than him.

At first Erik had laughed at the Doctor's suggestion to travel a day before he would meet DeMer and the other men fighting against the Ugly Laws. When they reached the hotel, Erik needed his walking cane and Squelch had to support him while Tony and Dr. Gängelmann went to the reception desk to get the keys for the suite they had booked using telegramms as means of communication.

The suite consisted of a livingroom and a bedroom, the hotel was modern, with indoor plumbing and bathrooms with hot and cold water - but still the tennants of the whole level had to share one bathroom and one toilet. That was to be expected and since the doors of toilet and bathroom could easily be locked providing privacy had to be accepted for the time they stayed.

Erik did not care much, he just sank down on the bed, breathing heavily, he felt dizzy and had a growing headache. He was exhausted.

"Shall I get you something?" Tony asked, worried to see his father like that. To the child the trip had not been strenous.

"No... just leave me in peace..."

"DOCTOR!"

"I said, leave me in peace, not call a doctor!" Erik snapped, but it was too late.

Dr. Gängelmann had to examine him just to assure Tony that his father would not die then and there. Erik hated being the weak old man now, he hated that Tony insisted sleeping at his side at night to be able to help him should something happen. Squelch and Gängelmann would have to share the suite's livingroom for the night.

* * *

They went to the meeting the next day in the afternoon. Erik had spend most of the time in bed, the curtains closed, to allow him to rest. The doctor had even agreed to give him a tiny bit of laudanum - opium tincture, containing opium and alcohol - despite the great risk of a relapse to addiction. In the doctor's eyes it was better to allow Erik to take something to calm his nerves that might kill him in the next years than let him risk another heart attack - and certain death - in the next hours.

Squelch and Gängelmann had to wait with the servants and drivers of other men in attendance in a room reserved for servants of the household. Only Erik and Tony were allowed to enter the salon where the men already waited for their notorious guest.

Before Jonathan deMer could introduce them, a man jumped to his feet and blocked their path. "You have no right to be here!" he barked at Erik. The man was smaller than Erik and somehow gave the impression of a small dog barking up a tree.

Erik smiled patiently - thanks to the small dosage of drugs he had gotten - and replied calmly: "How long have you sat there, waiting to deliver that line?"

The other man's face went red with anger. "You, Mr. Y, have absolutely no right to be among us!"

"Step back or face me!" Tony stepped up, trying to protect his father.

Erik grabbed the child's shoulder. "Tony, not now. We want to be allies. Sir, we have not formally been introduced so I have to assume that you know nothing of me... I guess you are the victim of rumors and prejudice or you would understand that I have every right to be here."

The other men in the salon curiously followed the small drama that unfolded before their eyes. This was better than theater - this was for real.

"I know who you are, Mr. Erik Y, or shall I call you Monsieur Gargoyle?" Erik flinched at the stage name he had so long ago used when he had performed as a freak on stage, but he did not reply, so the other man went on triumphantly: "You, the notorious Mr. Y, you are the one to exploit poor unfortunate people, abusing them to make them exhibitions in a human zoo - you of all men should have more empathy!"

"Are you finished?" Erik's voice was icy and as commanding as it had ever been, "Sir, under other circumstances I would have thought to a threat to my honor - but right now I just see a poor fool believing lies. We don't have to go through with this farce, I will explain myself and if you care to admit that you were wrong we do not need to... face the consequences of words spoken in the heat of the moment."

Everyone knew what that meant. They would have to fight and Erik's reputation was bad enough. Most people thought him - quite correctly - a ruthless killer and very experienced fighter. No one knew that he was weak and right now unable to fight anyways.

After a small dramatic pause Erik went on: "Phantasma is a save haven for those who are usually rejected, shunned, mocked and abused by normal society. In Phantasma the so-called 'freaks' are the stars, the leading performers, even in the leading management team. I would never force anyone to set a foot on stage if he or she does not want to do so. In Phantasma, the 'freaks' are treated with all due respect and do normal jobs like anyone else who does not suffer any deformity. I invite you, sir, to come with your family and see for yourself. Feel free to come and talk to everyone you see there - I do not need to defend myself, they will do that for me gladly."

There was a deadly silence in the room, then deMer grumbled: "Mr. MacDunn, please. We had this discussion before. If we want the Ugly Laws rejected, Mr. Y can provide great help. He is the only one here who can claim to be directly affected by the Ugly Laws. He himself suffers from a severe deformity, I have seen him myself, take my word for it - if we reject his help, they can call all of us hypocrites for we ourselves do not accept anyone with a deformity to our illustrious club." DeMer got up, went to Erik and greeted him warmly, greeted Tony and showed them to their seats - they were seated close to deMer himself and a man called O'Brian who seemed to be the leader of the group.

DeMer informed Erik and Tony, that they had Republicans and Democrats among them, that there were men of all religions, they all wanted to see the Ugly Law rejected by the state of New York for various reasons, some of them altruistic. He did not need to tell that most men had their own selfish reasons as always in politics.

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 _to be continued_

 _Sorry for making you wait that long. I was very busy. I hope you still follow my long fanfic?_


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